Jekyll and Hyde
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Woody's injuries caused him to change. Jordan knew that. But this much?
1. Smoke and Mirrors

**Chapter One**

**Smoke and Mirrors**

"We can do this, Hoyt. You can do it. All you have to do is make up your mind."

Woody was silent for several minutes. "I don't know. With all due respect, Captain, I just don't know."

Captain Freeman looked the young detective over for a moment. "If there was any doubt in my mind, I wouldn't have asked you to begin with."

Woody nodded. "I know…it's just that this…this is the biggest assignment I've ever been offered. I'm not sure if I can handle it."

"With all due respect, you're the one in the best position _to_ handle it," Rene' Walcott added, coming up off her seat to stand in front of Woody and stare him down. "You've unintentionally set yourself up to be the perfect detective for this case…from your history to your current situation. Anyone else…well, anyone else would just raise suspicion to their fellow officers and others in the law enforcement community…but now…" her voice trailed off.

Woody knew exactly where the DA was coming from. _But now_…he thought, carefully considering what the Captain had offered him and what Walcott had presented…_now I could drop off the face of the earth and no one would notice—or care. Not my fellow officers…not my friends, what few I have left…not Lu…and…and…no one else. In that aspect, they're right. I am the perfect one for this assignment._

He had struggled since his shooting. His bad temper and foul moods were now on legendary proportions with Boston PD and others. His past behavior, which had been stellar, was now marred with a series of bad judgments and renegade cop behavior. Woody had become a force of one, determined to right wrongs and bring justice without back up, without necessarily following the rules, and with as much force as he deemed necessary. The result of these actions was fellow officers who hardly dared speak to him, four insubordination reports in six months now in his file, and friends that had drifted away with no thought of reestablishing contact. Then, of course there was Lu, a woman he had given a fleeting thought about pursuing a relationship. Now she wouldn't even speak to him.

Much less Jordan Cavanaugh. That bridge was long burned. They had been civil with each other the few times they had to work together, but otherwise, there was nothing between them any longer. Instead of seeing her whiskey-colored eyes light up when she saw him now, they would quickly darken and shutter, concealing any of her thoughts from him.

_Which was just as well_….Woody thought. Especially now that she seemed to be deeply involved with that JD Pollack…the tabloid reporter from hell.

Woody shifted in his seat and stared uneasily at a point over Walcott's shoulder. He knew of all the detectives in the Boston police force, if one had to literally drop off the face of the earth, do a one-eighty, completely change and leave, he was the one in the best position With him, it would be believable. And he wouldn't be missed. He could operate freely under a cloak of seeming anonymity and no one would miss him.

But his heart tugged a little at the thought. There still was enough of the old Woody left in him…the do-gooder-boy-scout from Wisconsin … that hurt at the idea that no one would wonder where he was at…what he was doing…why he was gone. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. Still, Captain Freeman was correct. Wrongs needed to be righted. Justice needed to prevail. The really bad guys needed to be put away.

And it seemed he was just the man to put the wheels of justice in to motion.

"We've got everything in place," Walcott continued, softly, trying to coax Woody into an immediate answer. While she was sure the detective could handle it, she also was aware of the fact the final answer would ultimately be his. Woody would have to agree to this assignment freely. It would be at least a year out of his life. "The informants have been buried inside the mob for sometime now…two, three years. We've just been waiting for the right opportunity."

"And I'm it," Woody said, an edge of bitterness in his voice.

"Not exactly that, son. But you have to admit, with them looking for a fresh, new face to run their business on the east side, who better than a former cop? Who else better than someone who knows the ins and outs of the department…and virtually everyone on the force?" Captain Freeman replied, softly. The cop part of the man wanted Woody to accept this case. But the father part of him…well, that was different. Freeman had a son close to Hoyt's age. And truthfully, if it was his son that was offered this position, Freeman would encourage him to turn it down for his own safety's sake.

But Freeman's son was married with two kids. Woody had no one. No wife, no kids, no father, no mother, no family. Not only was he in a perfect position to take this assignment, in the department's description, he was _expendable_. A term Freeman didn't like to use, but if Woody got hurt, or worse…who was there that would really be upset?

No one but perhaps that dark-haired ME that had moped around the hospital right after Hoyt had gotten himself shot. But even she hadn't been around for months. "We need an answer, son," Freeman said, his voice still quiet and even. "Because if you don't do this, we'll have to get someone who will…"

Woody stood and walked over to the window, staring across the street. The morgue was in plain sight, a stark reminder that if all did not go well on this assignment, he could end up on one of those cold, stainless steel tables…zippered in a body bag, in the crypt, waiting for Bug or Garret…or _her_ to do his autopsy. He hid his shudder.

As much as he hated to admit it, the captain and Walcott were right. In the past six months, mob related deaths had increased…nearly doubled. The talk on the street was the old Irish mob was making a final stand against the European mobs that were beginning to muscle in on their turf. This could be the final stand. It could be very bloody.

And lots of innocent people could be hurt. He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot.

He could say no. He could say no and walk out of that room and go back to his office and try to salvage what career he had left as a policeman.

He could turn in his badge, say "Fuck you," to the captain and Walcott, fly back to Kewaunne and join his Uncle David at the family dairy farm. His uncle had made the offer at Christmas, after Woody had flown back home for the holidays, so tired and gaunt that his family became increasingly worried about his mental and physical health.

Or he could accept this assignment. Bring some justice. Then decide if he wanted to remain a cop or not, because some days he was no longer sure. The quiet, scheduled life of a dairy farmer was sounding more damned appealing everyday. But not at the price of innocent citizens getting hurt. That much of the Wisconsin boy scout was still there. "I'll do it on one condition," he finally said, his voice just as quiet and even as the captains.

"What is it?" Walcott asked.

"That at the end of this assignment, I get full retirement benefits…"

"Retirement?"

"Yeah. When this is over, I'm leaving the force….I'm going home to Wisconsin."

The captain nodded. Freeman didn't blame Hoyt. At the end of this assignment, Wisconsin would be the best place for him. Somewhere quiet…somewhere that he could regroup…decide what else he wanted to do with the rest of his life. "Done. I'll write it up. We'll put everything into play on your next assignment."

Woody sighed again and walked to the door. "Just one more thing. My next assignment…I want Jordan Cavanaugh to be the answering ME."

"Dr. Cavanaugh? Why?" Freeman asked.

"Not a problem," Rene' answered quickly. She knew why Woody requested Jordan. If anyone would question why the detective dropped off the face of the earth, it would be the female ME. And if anyone would have to be convinced that this was Woody's choice and there was nothing anyone could do about it, it was Jordan.

Otherwise Dr. Cavanaugh might stir up too much trouble and blow Woody's cover.

"Good," Woody said, opening the door. "I'll be ready for everything the next time I hear that I have a homicide call and the answering ME is Jordan."

* * *

It happened the next week. There was a murder in the south part of Boston. Woody got the call…straight from Freeman himself. "Do what you need to, Hoyt," the captain said. "Then go home. I'll be over to see you later tonight. Don't go to bed until then."

"Yes, sir," Woody replied. Flipping his phone shut, he turned off his computer, locked his desk and grabbed his coat, pausing for a moment in the doorway, taking in his last glimpse of his office…chances are, if he ever did return here, it would be fleeting. A chance to pick up a few last mementos, maybe say good bye…all before his plane would take off to Milwaukee. Back to Wisconsin and a past he had tried to forgive and forget. He flipped the light switch off and closed the door, locking it with a click, also.

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself at the homicide sight…and true to Walcott's word, Jordan was the answering ME. Woody saw her get out of the morgue van. _Damn…she never changes…_ he thought. Still beautiful…still able to get under his skin in a way no one else ever had. When this was all over, he knew he would owe her an explanation. He just hoped she would listen. Mentally he shook himself. _Go do what you have to…_ "What have we got?" he barked at a black and white rookie.

"Double homicide, sir," the young man replied.

Woody grunted and walked over to where Jordan was already examining the bodies. "What can you tell me?" he asked her, keeping the customary curt edge to his voice.

"Hands tied behind them and single shot to the head. You tell me what that looks like," Jordan replied, not looking up at him. Woody had changed so much recently she had avoided working with him as much as possible. Still…it happened. Like this morning. She was the answering ME….she caught his call. She had steeled herself not to let him jerk her chain all the way over to the homicide sight.

"Mob hit…again."

Jordan nodded.

"Any clue who they are?"

"No ID. I'll get them back to the morgue and have Nigel run their dentals as soon as he can."

"You do that…and when you get an ID…if you do….let me know,"

"Believe me, I will," she replied, then turning to tell the van workers to load the bodies, al the while watching Woody out of the corner of her eye.

He had changed…so much over the course of the last year. From the shooting until now, she had saw her Farm Boy transform himself into someone she didn't know…a thin, shell of man, who for the most part remained emotionless…unless he was ranting in anger at someone. From Jordan's point of view, anger seemed to be the _only_ emotion Woody was now capable of registering. Anger at everything and everybody.

Particularly her.

It seemed that on some level, he blamed her for the shooting. And on another level, he blamed her for her emotions. For loving him…or at least telling him when she did and the way she did.

She'd give him that much. Her timing sucked. But her emotions had been very real. Still were.

Only Woody had moved on…and in time, Jordan did, too. Seeing Danny McCoy and then JD Pollack…only to have both relationships eventually go up in smoke. While her body could respond to another man, her heart was still Woody's. And she had no idea how to get the thing back from him.

So in time, she had just given up. Stopped seeing anyone and waited on her heart to find its way home. Not that it ever had.

Which made working with him so very difficult. His tone of voice cut her to the quick. And her heart broke every time she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but disgust for her there.

No, Woody had changed…so much that she nearly wouldn't recognize him at all if she didn't already know him so well.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jordan pulled out of her thoughts when she overheard Woody yell this at one of the other detectives on the call. "I didn't say to move that…" he was talking about one of the crime scene markers.

"Do you realize you have just corrupted an active crime scene?" Woody continued to rage at his fellow detective, grabbing him by the lapels and getting directly in the man's face. "Do you know what you have done?"

"Woody….calm down," Jordan said, trying to intervene in what was quickly becoming a tension-filled situation between Woody and the other detective.

"I will not…this dick-head has compromised a scene…"

"Detective…." One of the black and white uniform officers began. "If you're going to act this way, I'm going to have to ask you to stand down and leave."

"Stand down my ass…." Woody continued, his voice still loud and still hanging on to the other detective's lapels. "If everyone here is too incompetent to accurately process a crime scene then maybe I ought to get rid of every last one of you…"

"Detective," warned the uniformed officer again. "I'm asking you to…"

"To what? Get rid of the incompetents? I can do that…" Woody roughly shoved the other detective away from him. Then, to everyone's surprise, swung at the uniformed officer, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh resounding through the crime scene.

* * *

Jordan swallowed the bile that kept trying to come up her throat as she vainly tried to keep her concentration on the body in front of her. After Woody had struck the officer, the next thing she knew, he was being handcuffed and led away to a police car. Woody's conduct was worse than planting evidence…worse than snitching on another policeman. He had struck a fellow officer who was only doing his job…and doing it well.

The interoffice gossip grapevine instantly became busy long before her shock had worn off enough for her to safely drive back to the morgue. By the time her feet had hit the sixth floor of the morgue she knew. Woody had been fired.

Fired for insubordination. There was no IA recourse or review. There had been too many witnesses. Including her. The once perpetually sunny detective had taken a physical pot shot at a fellow officer. A fellow-lower-ranked officer. Woody was fired. Removed from the roll of the Boston PD in ignominy. Not given a chance to give his side of the story…not that it would have mattered. Not asked to apologize and then resign.

He was fired.

Nigel had told her the news as soon as she got off the elevator. And to tell the truth, she hadn't been too surprised. She had been there. She saw and heard what had happened. She had tried to stop it.

And she had failed. Just like she had done with their relationship. She had failed him once again. She sighed and returned to the task at hand…her autopsy. _I'll give him a few days to calm down_, she thought. _And then…I'll give him a call. Maybe he'll at least talk to me enough that I know he's okay… and try to find out what he's doing. I have some friends in security at Massachusetts Technologies. Maybe I can get him a job there…_

* * *

Woody was pacing. He always paced when he was nervous or worried. And now he was a little of both. It was late…nearly midnight and he still hadn't heard a word from the captain. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock at the door.

"Hoyt?" a voice called from the outside.

"Captain Freeman…" Woody opened the door with a measure of relief and apprehension. "Is the officer…"

"He's fine…just fine, Hoyt. A little bruised, a couple of loose teeth. You pack a mean right hook," Freeman chuckled, coming in and sitting down on Woody's couch, spreading out a file in front of him on the coffee table. "Here's everything…."

Woody sat beside him and looked over the papers as the captain continued. "This is the specs on the bar that you'll be operating out of…the Old Irish Rose. Our informants have already gotten you in. You're to meet with Little Johnny in three days. During that time, we'll be broadcasting to all the media, loud and long, how ashamed we are of you for taking a pot shot at that officer and that you have been fired from the force with no IA review. Your career as a law enforcement officer is over for good. No one anywhere will hire you…."

"You'll make that completely believable?"

"Walcott will go the distance on it…and so will I. This will make it easier for you with Little Johnny…he'll like it better if he thinks you have a vendetta against the force."

Woody nodded. All of that sounded good.

"And if anyone gets to sniffing around too much, your official file has been marked 'closed'. That you're fired. Your undercover file…that no one knows about but Walcott and I…that is now active. You answer only to me…is that understood?" Freeman asked.

"Yes, sir. It sounds secure."

"It's as secure as we can make it, Hoyt. We all want you to come out of this thing smelling like a rose. Then we can reveal how it was a set up for you to go undercover…"

Woody brushed the last comment aside with a wave of his hand. "That's all well and good, but what about the other stuff…"

"The retirement? It's all here, Hoyt. That and the account we will direct deposit your paycheck into." The captain shoved the other set of papers in front of Woody. "And then there's this…"

Woody looked at the new set of papers in front of him. He had asked Walcott to draw up a new will for him after he agreed to accept this assignment. Even though Woody knew every precaution would be taken to guarantee his safety, he was no fool. He knew what his outcome would be if the mob found out he was still a policeman…undercover with the Boston PD. He looked over the document…one that would give all of his meager earthly possessions to one person who still might have at least a soft spot somewhere in their heart for him – Jordan. It also made her his next of kin again…to make medical decisions for him should it become necessary and he was in no state to decide anything . She had done an excellent job before….his walking legs were proof of it. He had no doubt, that if the need should arise, she would do so again. He signed the papers without a second thought and handed them back to Freeman.

"You sure about this, son?" the captain asked, taking the papers out of Woody's hand.

"Yeah…I am…Jordan…"

"Not about that. About giving up police work altogether after this assignment is over."

Woody nodded. "I am. It's time…nothing's the same anymore."

Freeman looked the young detective in the eyes. He had heard of cases like this before. An officer gets wounded…nearly mortally…and police work looses its luster…personal relationships fall apart….and the officer crawls inside an emotional shell never to come out again. He didn't think Woody was at this point yet, but he was close. "Okay, son. Whatever you say. But I'll make it so you can return to the force if you ever decide to…this," he pointed to the pile of papers and the new case file for Woody, "is all smoke and mirrors. It's not your real life. And it's not the people that care about you."


	2. It's Better this Way

**Disclaimer: Because I forgot it in chapter one.**

**I've asked Santa to bring me Crossing Jordan for Christmas, but he keeps telling me that it all belongs to Tim Kring and that he won't share. So I don't own anything connected with JC, except a few shares of GE stock. And I guess that doesn't count.**

**Chapter Two**

**It's for the Best**

For a month, Jordan couldn't get a word out of Woody. The first week, she had left him alone…to give him time to cool off. Hopefully realize what a mistake he had made…that he had thrown away his promising career as a policeman in one hasty, temper-filled moment. Hopefully, that time would allow him to regret his actions, see the error of his ways…make him more receptive to the contact she had made for him at Massachusetts technologies.

_Let him stew in his own juices for a week,_ she had thought, _and then maybe his temper won't be quite so bad. Maybe he'll at least listen to me._

The next week, she left three messages on his apartment's phone. He didn't return her calls.

The week after, she filled his cell phone's voice mail up. Either he wasn't checking his messages, or he was still ignoring her.

Finally, she tried e-mail. Every day. For a solid week. Her response request told her that they were never opened.

So swallowing down her trepidation and building up her courage, Jordan did what she really didn't want to do. After work, she went home, showered, changed clothes, and drove over to his apartment. The drive there seemed far too fast for her faltering bravery. She had never feared Woody. But the part of her that still loved him was deathly afraid of what his rejection could do to her one more time.

And frankly, Jordan had no desire to try to mend her broken heart again. It hadn't healed from the time Woody kicked her out of his hospital room. Then he broke it for a second time over Riggs…although at the time she had been too angry to realize it. The possibility that this visit could make her vulnerable to him once more…and then have to spend the next several months picking up the pieces of her heart left her nerves in shambles. She took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking lot of his building.

As she went through the doors, she was suddenly glad she remembered she had a six-pack of long-necks chilling in the refrigerator at home. In the elevator she said a Hail Mary just for luck.

But as she raised her hand to knock on his door, she was startled to realize that hand was shaking. She was even more shocked when she became aware that her _whole_ body was shaking. Jordan took another deep breath, and made her hand knock on his door.

The wait seemed endless, but finally, the door opened, and there he was…

Looking much better than she expected. "Woody…" she said, her voice trailing off as she realized he was dressed to the teeth…good suit. Good, expensive suit. New hair cut. Nice watch. Nicer ring. He didn't look at thing like she had expected. The unshaven, unbathed, depressed human being she anticipating encountering. Not at all. This Woody looked…well…incredible. And had a spring to his step and a gleam in his eyes.

Suddenly, Jordan felt dowdy. She never had felt that way before around Woody. Even on their worst days, when he looked at her, she had always felt like he was admiring her hair, her eyes….her figure. Desiring her in some way.

This Woody was looking at her like she was lower than something on the bottom of his Italian-made shoes. She swallowed hard. "May I come in for a minute?"

"Jordan," Woody replied, adjusting his shirt cuffs under the sleeve of his expensively tailored suit, "I'm just about to leave for the evening…."

"Ummm…I know…well…I mean, I assumed from the way you're dressed…"

"Can it wait?"

"It won't take but a minute….please…"

_Damn…her 'please' has always been my undoing…_Woody thought, stifling the desire to roll his eyes, pull her into his apartment, and hold her. She looked thinner and the dark circles hugging her eyes was worrisome. No doubt she had been concerned about him, given she had witnessed his arrest and the circumstances surrounding it. "Okay," he replied, sighing and giving the impression she was only annoying him. "But it will have to be quick, Cavanaugh." He held the door open a little wider and she slid in past him. "What is it?"

"I …I…I've been trying to get in touch with you…"

"I know."

The tone in his voice surprised her. It was impatient, annoyed…condescending. Maybe he had learned nothing from his termination. But she hadn't come all this way for nothing. And she'd be damned if he would cause her to cower in fear. Clearing her throat and her mind, she continued, figuring it was better just to cut to the chase. "I have some friends at Massachusetts Technologies. They're looking for someone to replace their head of security…."

"And you thought I'd be interested in the job?" His voice held a note of incredulousness that Jordan had never heard before…bordering on disbelief.

"Well…I mean, you were…ummm…."

"Fired?"

Jordan nodded, not sure exactly how to take his attitude. On one hand, she was glad he was adjusting so….well….but on the other hand, Woody had never seemed more un-Woody in his whole life…even after the shooting. He was beyond arrogant. He was …condescending and supercilious.

"No thank you, Jordan. I'm fine. Believe me. I don't need your job with Massachusetts Technologies. And I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help that is remotely even associated with the Boston Police Department. That includes you and any of your morgue monkeys. And I need you to leave now. I need to go."

"But…Woody…"

"I mean it." He crossed the small space between them to cross his arms and stand nearly defiantly in front of her. "I don't need them…and I don't need you. So take your good deeds and your damn concern and waltz yourself right out of my door. I didn't need you when I was a detective and I sure as hell don't need you now."

His words hit her as hard as his right hook had hit the uniformed officer he had decked weeks ago. And she felt as mangled and bruised. She took another deep breath and turned her back to him to give herself a minute to regroup.

But she didn't hide the pain in her eyes quickly enough for Woody not to notice. He groaned inwardly at the fact he had hurt her yet again…even if this time it was for her own good. She needed to stay away from him while he was on this assignment. And then later…if he had time before he flew out to Wisconsin….he would try to explain the entire situation to her himself…ask her to try to understand and in someway forgive him…for everything.

Then he'd leave. He had caused her enough hurt for a lifetime.

"Please leave, Jordan."

She turned back to him, not sure what to say or do…other than make sure that he knew she was open to being there for him…that if he changed his mind, she still would be glad to reach out and help him in whatever way she could. "Fine. I will…since you've got somewhere to be…but if you ever change your mind…."

"What makes you think I would ever change my mind, Jordan? The fact that one day I'll wake up and say, 'Damn….I miss that woman I spent four years out of my life chasing…only to have her tell me she loves me out of a guilty conscience'?"

"It wasn't a guilty conscious…"

"Only to find out a few weeks after that, she's flown to Vegas to be with Danny McCoy?"

"You said it was over… and you sure as hell moved on…with people I knew…"

"And then to shack up with some Aussie-tabloid-reporter-from-hell who not only nearly got me killed, but came damn close to getting you hurt, too…put a tracer on your phone…"

"Woody…" The lump in Jordan's throat was growing larger by the minute. He was painting her to be something she wasn't…

"Your taste in men leaves something to be desired, Jordan."

"Evidently. Especially when I told you I loved you."

Woody inwardly winced at her words….hoping they were spoken in retaliation against the hurt he was causing her….that deep down inside, she really didn't mean them. But still…Walcott and the captain had made it clear that all ties needed to be broken with his previous friends so that nothing in this assignment would be jeopardized. That included Jordan. Taking a deep breath, Woody pushed on. "Do you really think that I felt the same way? I mean….look at us, Jordan. Look at _you._ Your impossibly stubborn…hardheaded….too damn independent for your good or anyone else's….you vacillate between being an icicle and being a tease…you're too thin… .what man would want to be with a woman like you? Why do you think that Danny and JD eventually ran for the hills…Hell, I didn't really want _you_, all I wanted was a quick, hot fling…"

His voice trailed off as he realized she was no longer listening, she was making for his apartment door as quickly as she could, a sheen of tears in her eyes. "That's right," he called as a parting shot. "Run. That's what you do best. You say you want the truth, but when it slaps you in the face, all you can do is run…."

His reply was a slamming door.

Woody took a deep breath and sat down on his couch for a minute, fighting his urge to go after her and explain…to make things right between them. Then, swallowing his regret, he stood and finished getting ready for work, praying to God he never had to speak that way to her again.

* * *

_What man would want to be with a woman like you? _Jordan stopped counting the times that remark of Woody's ran through her mind. And that thought was quickly followed with his parting shot, _Hell, I didn't really want you, all I wanted was a quick, hot fling_. Both statements cut her to the quick, breaking her already broken heart just a little bit more each time.

_So that's all I ever was to him? No wonder he told me to get out of his hospital room after I told him that I loved him…he didn't love me…he never did…he just wanted to have sex with me…just like any other man in my life…I was a fool to think Woody Hoyt was different…that maybe, just maybe he was the one. The one man I could give my heart and my body to and know that he wouldn't hurt me…_

_So maybe this is for the best…maybe it's better that I found out now…after he's left the police department and I don't have to look him in the face nearly everyday. I can get over him and move on…or at least try._

But Jordan was finding out the hard way that trying to forget Woody and actually doing that were two completely different things. She was discovering that forgetting the man you loved and still held your heart despite everything was a long and difficult process. As long as she could stay busy and keep her mind occupied, all was well. So, in keeping with her old behavior, she began to work longer hours, more days…requesting a heavier caseload.

Garret knew what was up and tried to accommodate her as much as he could…but he worried about her. They all did. However, Jordan seemed to be managing well.

Until she got home…and was by herself…and tried to sleep. Then she was haunted by a pair of blue eyes and his last cutting words to her…She would be jolted out of her dreams, and not be able to sleep again. _I have been such a fool…_ she thought. And her mind agreed.

But her heart was holding out that somewhere down the line, maybe there was hope.

That quickly disappeared a few weeks later when Nigel walked into her office. One look at his face told her that whatever he had to say wasn't good. He looked as if he had seen a ghost…and he didn't knock before he entered. He just walked into her office and closed the door. "Jordan," he began softly. "Do you have a minute?"

"For you, Nige…all day," she smiled at him, hoping that teasing him a little would bring him back to normal.

It didn't work.

"Have you kept up with Woodrow any since he was terminated from the force?"

Jordan shook her head. She didn't like lying to Nigel, but she wanted to keep what Woody had told her to herself for a while…then she'd share it with Nigel….just like she did nearly everything else. "No…not really. Even the inter-office gossip grapevine has pretty much clammed up on him and moved onto bigger and better things…"

Nigel swallowed hard and began to pace. "I'm afraid it might open up on him again," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He stopped pacing and stood in front of her desk where she was sitting. "You know I get out a bit from time to time…"

Jordan nodded. "And?"

"Last night, a few of my mates wanted to go to bar on the south side of Boston…"

"Not the best section of town, Nige. You know that."

He nodded. "But I figured, 'What the hell…what could happen if we just go down there and have a few beers'? So we go the Old Irish Rose…"

"The Old Irish Rose? Nigel….the Irish mob…what's left of them…operate out of there…you know that."

"I know…" Nigel resumed pacing. "But I figured a couple of beers wouldn't hurt anyone…"

"So did they? I mean, you look in one piece…"

"Oh, I'm fine. But once I get inside, guess who I find out now is managing that place for the mob now?" Nigel, asked, stopping once more in front of her desk.

"How should I know?" Jordan was deathly afraid of what his answer was going to be.

And Nigel knew this. Nodding, he replied, "Woodrow."


	3. The Old Irish Rose

**Chapter Three**

**The Old Irish Rose**

Jordan sank back down in her desk chair at Nigel's words. _So that's why he was so dressed up the other night,_ she thought as she rubbed her temples with her fingers…feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing there. _He was getting ready to go out, all right…straight to the Old Irish Rose and oversee the mob activities there…does he have any idea of how dangerous this is? That he could get caught in the crosshairs of some really nasty mob fights and end up….end up…_She swallowed hard. Jordan couldn't complete the rest of the sentence.

"Love, are you all right?" Nigel asked, coming around to kneel beside her.

"You're sure?" she asked in a voice that wasn't steady at all.

Nigel nodded. "I'm sorry, Jordan. Truly….truly sorry."

"It's okay, Nige. I mean, what does he have left? He's lost his career. Lu and he…well, from what I understand, now Lu's not even speaking to him…and I… we…"

Nigel gently took one of her hands. "He still had you. You and I both know that. He's the reason you really couldn't give your heart to JD, no matter how hard you tried. You may not want to admit it and neither does he, but it's true."

Jordan nodded and withdrew one of her hands to wipe the tears off her cheeks. "I know…but sometimes you nearly have to lose the thing that keeps you sane…that makes you the most human….before you realize what it means to you."

"That happened to you with Woody…when he was shot. And one day, he'll realize just how much he cares for you, too, Jordan," Nigel whispered.

"But what am I supposed to do now? Let him ruin his life by getting involved with a group of men that could either get him killed, or make him do a total one-eighty and defy all the ideals and principles he's believed in all his life?"

Nigel stood and drew Jordan up with him. "I don't know…I don't know what your plan should be. Let me do some digging, love. Find out exactly how he got in and why…and then I suggest we talk to the other person who knows him best in the whole world. Lu."

Jordan glanced over Nigel's shoulder to stare out the window and gather her thoughts. As a person, she liked Lu. Lu was a great detective and her background in psychology was proving invaluable to the Boston PD homicide department. The woman had a strong work ethic and didn't mind putting in the hours or the leg work to see a case through.

But her connection with Woody still rankled Jordan. Jordan had never necessarily thought of herself as the jealous kind. But anytime she had seen the blonde detective and Woody together, she had gone beyond seeing red. She had seen green – Jordan became jealous. Jealous that Lu had more in common with Woody than she did. Jealous that Woody had confided things to Lu that he never dreamed of telling her. However….something had happened. Jordan had seen them out enough together to know they were on the cusp of becoming a couple. And Lu was no longer Woody's psychologist, so that hurdle had been jumped.

Then, like someone had thrown a switch, it was all over between Lu and Woody. The interoffice gossip grapevine lit up, but there were no positive, definite reasons over what caused the split. Lots of speculation and rumors, but nothing for sure.

Still…Lu knew Woody pretty well, and in some areas, much better than Jordan or Nigel. Especially recently…She may be able to throw some light on a dark corner of Woody's world. "Sure…we do need to talk to her," Jordan finally admitted in a small voice. "She would want to know what's happening with Woody, I'm sure."

"And she may be able to help. Call her and ask her to meet us at lunch. By then, I'm sure to have some answers." Nigel gave Jordan a parting smile and platonic kiss on the forehead before he ambled out of her office, back to his computer, to research Woody's introduction to the Irish mob.

Jordan's eyes followed him and then settled back at the phone on her desk. Reluctantly she picked up the receiver and dialed the direct number into Lu's office. Here's hoping Lu didn't have previous lunch plans.

* * *

"He was definitely fired," Nigel said, between bites of his sandwich. He, Jordan, and Lu were meeting at a deli about three blocks away from the morgue. 

"From what I've heard, there wasn't even an IA investigation," Lu said. "And that struck me as odd…especially with as long as Woody had been with the force."

"Yeah, but he hit a rookie cop," Jordan responded. "And there were at least a dozen witnesses, including myself."

Lu nodded. "I know they didn't even let him back in to clean out his desk. Someone did that for him and put his personal things in a box out at the receptionist's desk for him to pick up. They've called him twice and he still hasn't come by yet."

"Tell me, is it protocol that once they fire someone, their record is sealed?" Nigel asked Lu.

"I don't know…I guess it depends on what Woody was working on before all this happened," the detective responded.

"Was it anything special….say mob related?" Jordan hedged.

Lu shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean Woody and I haven't worked together in a while…and haven't talked in several, several weeks."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, asking the unaskable. Lu didn't bite…she ignored Jordan's unspoken question and concentrated on her salad.

"I don't think whatever he was doing before he was terminated had anything to do with a mob case," Nigel said, finishing his sandwich and starting on his chips.

"What makes you say that?" Lu asked. Jordan had filled her in on where Woody was working now. A little research on the female detective's part had let her know that Jordan wasn't shooting her a line of bullshit. The Old Irish Rose was a long-standing mob-owned establishment that had sheltered all the major family heads for decades. The fact that they had hired an outsider…a former cop …let her know that either the mob wasn't trusting one of their own to run that particular business any longer or that Woody had an "in." Someone that could vouch for the former Boston policemen…that would let the mob leaders know without a shadow of a doubt Woody would be loyal and true…and could be explicitly trusted.

"Because…first, the mob could smell that a mile off…and quite possible believe that Woody was working undercover. Which we know he's not because...he's had no mob case and he's been fired," Nigel replied

"Yeah, but there was the Albanian mob case," Jordan rejoined.

Nigel nodded. "And that's where I'm going. From what I can tell, Woody used Cal to get him introduced to Little Johnny."

"Cal?" Jordan asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Not per say personally, but let the mob know that he had an inside to the Albanian mob if they should ever need information. They asked for some. As a sign of loyalty, Woody gave them some phone numbers and information he had wrangled off of Cal. It showed the Irish mob they could trust him…"

"Cal?" Lu asked. "Who's Cal?"

"It's sort of a long story, but let's just say that he's Woody's younger brother and was messed up with the Albanian mob a couple of years ago. He ended up coming to Boston and Woody found out about it…" Jordan told her.

"And hit the roof…" Lu concluded.

"Something like that….yeah," Jordan softly replied, not wanting to tell Lu that Woody had buried evidence against his brother.

"So now, what do we know?" Nigel asked rhetorically. "First, we know that Woody was fired," he said, raising one finger. "Secondly," he raised another finger, "we know that he is now seemingly employed by the Irish mob. Third, this means that our lily-white Wisconsin boy scout is now probably involved in racketeering, bookmaking, prostitution, drugs…and who knows what else?"

"And even if he's not directly, it's still guilt by association…" Lu finished, her voice trailing off, a far away look in her eyes.

Jordan made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. "I don't care…I don't care what either of you say…I know Woody Hoyt better than both of you put together….and I just can't picture him ever getting involved with something like this… I just can't. There's got to be another reason."

Lu stood and began to gather up her things to leave. "I know, Jordan. It's hard for me to picture him taking a mob job, either. But as a psychologist, not as his friend, I can tell you something…"

Jordan looked up at her expectantly. Lu continued. "Sometimes, when a person has given all they can to one way of life, one set of expectations…and things don't go exactly as planned, that person pushes back. They do that one-eighty. They embrace a lifestyle and set of values that seem totally contradictory to their personality."

"Do they ever go back to the way they were?" Jordan asked quietly, after a moment's hesitation. She wasn't really sure she wanted the answer.

"Sometimes. Depends on if they have a real incentive to."

* * *

Woody would have to admit, it was going better than he expected, as he sat across from his new boss and listened to the itinerary for the week. And he had to give the informants that Walcott and Captain Freeman had planted inside the Irish mob two years ago most of the credit. They had introduced Woody to the Irish mob's leader, a guy by the name of Little Johnny. 

Little Johnny. Woody didn't let the name fool him. Little had nothing to do with an accurate description of the mobster. A towering man at six foot six inches, he had a good two inches and at least 40 pounds on Woody. He was a giant of a man, who like most good mob members, was a contradiction in terms. He was a devoted family man, married to the same woman for nearly 25 years…and she was as petite as Johnny was big. He had four kids, whom Woody knew that the mobster thought the sun rose and set in…and was equally loved by his offspring. Little Johnny attended church regularly, cared about the senior citizens in his parish, and gave generously and anonymously to many local charities.

He was also a cold-blooded killer. Woody personally knew of at least a half a dozen disloyal mob members he had taken the responsibility to have "offed."

But the informants paved the way for the detective, letting Little Johnny know about how the police department had been so disloyal to Woody, after all the time and years he had spent with the force. And if there was anything Little Johnny despised more than anything, it was disloyalty.

So, the mob leader and Woody had talked. And talked. Finally, Little Johnny had agreed to let Woody have a go at managing the bar and keeping his ear to the ground about the various goings and comings of mob members and what they were doing. "I like you, kid," the Johnny had told Woody. "I can see in your eyes that you hate fickleness as much as I do. I admire that in a person. We'll let you have a chance at a new career with us…and you may prove to be an asset to us…with your knowledge of how the Boston PD works…and the fact that you still have friends there. Friends that might not like the way you were treated either…and will let you know if the good Captain Freeman is plotting anything against us. The job's yours Hoyt….as long as you don't screw it up."

That was the beginning of Woody's "new" career as a mob member…managing the Old Irish Rose…and letting Little Johnny know of any news he might find important.

He was also telling his captain the same news. And so far, so good. Everything was going well…until the other night he had looked up and saw Nigel Townsend walk in the bar. The color had drained from Nigel's face as the criminalist realized that Woody was there and what Woody was doing.

Woody had sworn under his breath, praying all the while that Nigel wouldn't do anything to blow his cover. He had one of the waitresses take care of them, while he disappeared in the back, going to his office and closing and locking the door. He had half-way expected to find Nigel knocking atit before the night was out.

But that never happened. When Woody emerged again about an hour later, Nigel and his group of cronies were gone. However, Woody didn't fool himself. He knew the next day Nigel would make a bee line for Jordan's office and tell her what he had found….what he had seen. Who Nigel had seen and where he saw him.

As a result, for the past week, he had expected Jordan to show up at his apartment to confront him…and offer the job at Massachusetts Technologies again. He sighed when he thought about the upcoming argument. He would have to be cold and abrupt with her one more time. Possibly see the hurt flicker in those brown eyes once more. But it would be for her own good…he wouldn't let her be caught in the middle of all of this…She could get hurt.

A quiet retirement to Kewaunne as a dairy farmer was sounding better and better all the time. Between dealing with Jordan and dealing with the mob, Woody was in the most difficult spot he could ever imagine. The quiet, civilian life was looking really good right now.

But these thoughts came to a screeching halt with the bell over the door jangled and she walked in.

_What the hell?_ Woody thought, feeling the color drain out of his face. He anticipated her coming to his apartment, but never dreamed Jordan would have the audacity to come to the bar, given the Rose's history.

"Friend of yours, Woody?" Little Johnny asked from his table in the corner. He had heard the bell jingle, too, and knew it was too early in the afternoon for bar patrons. When the pretty brunette walked in and then Johnny caught Woody's expression, the mobster knew something was up.

"You might say that. I knew her when…when.."

"You were at the police department."

"Yeah."

Johnny was silent for a moment, as he watched Jordan stand awkwardly in the middle of the bar, trying to decide what to do. "Go to her," he urged Woody. "It looks like she needs to talk to you."

Setting his jaw, Woody got up and walked over to where Jordan was still standing. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question, Farm Boy."

"I'm working."

"Yeah, I heard you've started a new career…can't say I like your new associates," she said, nodding toward Johnny.

"Should that matter to me?" he asked coldly.

Jordan lowered her head for a moment, gathering her thoughts. It hadn't been an easy decision to come to the bar. She had debated about it for two days after her lunch with Lu and Nigel. Nigel had told her it was too dangerous, but that had never stopped her before. It didn't stop her now. What she now knew about Woody was just what she had heard…she needed to see it for herself…that this was his decision….that he wasn't being played as a mob toy.

It certainly didn't look like it. Woody and Johnny had been deep in a discussion when she came it…and it looked serious. She surreptitiously stole a glance at the mobster in the corner, and found him looking somewhat amused at the situation. "Can we go somewhere we can talk?" she finally asked, swinging her eyes back to Woody.

"Sure. Follow me." He took Jordan by the arm and led her back to his office. "What do you want, Jordan?" he asked, after they both had entered and he shut his door.

"Why. I want to know why you're doing this."

"That should be simple. I was fired. I needed a job. Little Johnny gave me one."

Jordan shook her head. "You and I both know who Little Johnny is and what goes on in this place. So don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Woody Hoyt."

Woody took a deep breath. He had to get her out of here before too many questions were asked…and if Johnny found out Jordan was an ME….and worse if he found out she was Max Cavanaugh's daughter….it wouldn't be pretty. "Okay…so you know. So what?" he shrugged his shoulders and turned his back to her. Maybe if he didn't have to look her in the eyes, this would be easier to do.

"So what? Woody, this is so much more than just this bar…this is racketeering, prostitution…and worse. It goes against everything you've ever stood for. Why? Why did you do this?"

"That's easy, Jor. I spent my adult life fighting the bad guy. Then one day, I woke up and realized the bad guys were winning. And I like to be on the winning team. So I traded up."

"Woody," Jordan strode over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "This isn't you…this isn't right…"

Making his eyes ice cold, he spat out, "And what do you know about what's right? What makes you judge and jury? Can't you see that I'm tired of not winning…not getting ahead…not getting anything I work so hard for? Or does everyone have to be perfect in this world except you?"

Jordan backed up at the vehemence in his words, taking a step backwards towards the door. "I didn't mean….I didn't mean that. I'm just….just worried about you. That's all."

"You, Jordan Cavanaugh, worried about me. That's just precious. Jordan. You can take your worry, your concern…your notion of moral righteousness and walk right out the door. And don't come back. I don't want to see you again. Do you understand?" He had followed her, making her continue to back up until her back hit the door.

His face was nearly frightening in its anger. She had never seen him this furious with her, even in the hospital. She had come here for answers…maybe she had them. Maybe Lu was right. Maybe Woody had been pushed until he felt he had to push back…do that one eighty.

Maybe if she just gave him time, he'd find his way back. She nodded. "I do…I understand…" She cursed herself when she heard the tremble in her voice. She'd bet money Woody heard it, too. Especially with the way his lips were turning up in a self-satisfied smile. "It's just that…well….if you ever change your mind…"

"I won't. Not about this job. Not about you."

She nodded again and tried to turn around to open the door and get out. But Woody stopped her, spinning her back around for a moment, looking down into her brown eyes that were echoing the hurt her heart felt. Then, without another moment's hesitation, he caught her lips in a hard kiss.

Jordan's senses reeled for a moment and then steadied out as she felt his lips, hard and relentless on hers…taking from her what he wanted and to her horror she heard herself moan in the back of her throat and felt her mouth open under the pressure of his….

Only to feel him abruptly pull away and open the door behind her. "Go. Get out. Now. And don't ever come back."

* * *

Woody had watched her as she stumbled out the door, opting to go out the back way rather than the front. He had stood and stared after her, then quietly followed her, observing her as she found her truck and climbed in. And his heart broke just a little more when he saw her lean against her steering wheel and cry…too upset to drive off for a few minutes. 

_Damn, that was hard,_ he thought to himself. And it was. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do in his life. But he had to do it. Jordan couldn't be anywhere near this bar if things went badly for him here. She could get hurt….or worse.

But seeing the woman he loved crying over him…and watching Jordan's heart break as she tried to understand why he was acting this way…it was all too much sometimes. Woody shook his head, trying to get the vision of her tear-streaked face out of his mind for the millionth time since their altercation two weeks ago.

It was even harder to get the taste and feel of her lips off of his. Hell, who was he kidding? That was impossible. Especially since her perfume lingered on his coat and in his office.

Everything inside him was screaming for him to call her…to go by her apartment…see how she was and if she was okay. But he couldn't. He couldn't risk seeing her again or it might screw up this assignment that he was working on and other people had been on even longer and risked everything for.

And if he was caught, he would risk ruining Little Johnny's burgeoning trust in him…or worse. So he swallowed his concern and prayed that Jordan would be okay. And that one day she would understand…that he would be given the opportunity to explain the entire undercover situation before he left ot go back to Keuwanne. This was the only way he knew how to deal with it.

And it was working. Working well… Little Johnny continued to give him more responsibilities and better access to mob activities. Woody was doing better than Freeman or Walcott ever expected. Then one afternoon…far too early for bar patrons, but too late for deliveries, the bell over the door jangled again. Woody looked up from his table in the corner to find Nigel Townsend searching the room for him. When the Brit's eyes fell on Woody, he walked over to the table and sat down. "She's worried sick about you, you know," he began without any preface.

"She'll get over it, Nigel." Woody took care to make sure his voice was coldly arrogant.

Nigel looked down at the table for a brief minute. He had assumed that Woody's concern for Jordan had decreased some…especially since the former detective didn't call or come by her apartment after he had upset her. "No doubt, she will, Woodrow. No doubt she will…but I've come to talk to you about something else."

Woody raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Can I talk to you alone?" Nigel asked, noting that Johnny and his associates were taking their place around the table.

"I'm busy right now, Nigel. Just tell me." Woody did his best to act bored with the entire transaction.

Nigel looked around at the crowd of men beginning to surround the table. And suddenly he didn't give a damn about Woody Hoyt any more.

He was, however, concerned about Jordan.

"Okay, Woody…I just figured that considering your past with Jordan, I thought you may want to know…"

"What about Jordan, Nigel?" Woody asked with a sigh.

"Max died last night.."


	4. Need

**Chapter Four**

**Need**

Woody sucked in a deep breath as he watched Nigel get up and walk away without saying another word. _I'll need to talk to him after all of this is over … before I go back to Kewuanne…try to explain to him that I'm not such a hard ass…it's just this case. Christ…Max…how did Jordan even find out? _A dozen questions ran through Woody's mind all at once. The last he had heard, Max and Jordan were still estranged. And he seriously doubted the situation had changed all that much. Had Jordan's father been sick long or was it sudden? Was it an accident or natural causes? For the umpteenth time since he had taken this case, Woody inwardly cursed this assignment. Now Jordan needed him…really needed him and he might not be able to go to her.

Worse yet, she may turn to Danny McCoy or JD Pollack again for comfort. He had to stop himself from grinding his teeth.

"What was that all about, Hoyt?" Little Johnny asked, sitting down by Woody's side. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Swallowing hard to get control of his emotions, Woody didn't know anyway to answer the man except with the truth. "Do you remember the dark-haired girl that came in here a few months ago? The one that I talked to in my office?"

"The real pretty one? I haven't seen her in here since…She's a beauty. You shouldn't have let her go…at least not the way you did…in tears."

Woody looked startled for a moment. Little Johnny was watching him more closely than the detective thought. The mobster must have observed him watching Jordan…and seeing Jordan cry.

"Her father passed away last night."

"Oh, God. That's too bad."

Woody nodded, hoping Johnny wouldn't ask too many questions. Due to Max's past history with Blackie Conroy and the old Irish mob, the last thing that Johnny needed to know was the Jordan was Max Cavanaugh's daughter.

"You are going to go to her, aren't you?" Johnny asked, breaking Woody out of his reverie.

"Me? I don't know…we didn't part on such good terms…"

"She cares for you, Hoyt. And you care for her. I can see it in your eyes. Go to her. She's going to need you now…even if she won't admit it, she will. We'll cover for you here…Go. Not all your connections with your past life have to be completely broken."

_Yeah, but I can't jeopardize this assignment, either_, Woody thought, before slowly getting up and walking away from the table. "If you're sure it will be okay," he said over his shoulder.

"Go to her. She needs you. And what's worse, you need her to need you…"

* * *

Woody was sure that covert operations inside Afghanistan at the Pakistani border didn't require as much undercover security as his new assignment did. Trying to clear his attending Max's wake with Walcott and Freeman was nearly next to impossible.

"Look," he had finally ground out to Renee', "you know Jordan's and my past…it hasn't always been perfect, but we've been close. I need to go to the wake to be with her. Let her know that I'm supporting her."

"But how will we handle the questions that are raised? I mean, the word is out among the department where you are and what you're doing. You're not the best liked guy in the police world now, Hoyt."

Woody thought for a minute. "What if I wait until the very last…until nearly everyone has cleared out and I can see her alone….at least for a few minutes? Then I'll leave and go right back to the bar."

Renee' hesitated for a minute. She appreciated Woody's loyalty, but this assignment had already cost thousands of dollars to set up and more man hours than she cared to count. Woody was now deep inside the mob…she didn't want anything to go wrong. But still…even as hard nosed as she was, she understood the workings of the heart. "That should be okay," she finally said. "Let Jordan know that you care…then leave. And incidentally, Hoyt, you're doing a great job."

"Thanks," Woody let out a sigh of relief as he hung up the phone. Now that he had permission from _both_ of his bosses to go see his grieving girlfriend, he walked over to this closet to make sure his best dark suit was pressed.

Girlfriend. He had just called Jordan Cavanaugh his girlfriend. He sighed to himself again . In the deep recesses of his mind, she had always been that. Even when he had tried to push her away, in his mind, he always referred to her as that.

And right now, he needed to see how she was doing. He got dressed and headed out for the funeral home.

* * *

There was a crowd…carloads of people…former Pogue patrons, former cops…friends of Max's and friends of Jordan's. Woody watched them all come and go…waiting until nearly ten o'clock to go in. There were virtually no cars in the parking lot then, and he watched as one-by-one, Garret, Lily, and Bug left. The only vehicles left in the lot then were Jordan's El Camino and Nigel's bike.

It was only then that he climbed out of his car, and flashed his badge at the funeral home workers to get them to let him in. Nigel was in the outer hallway, waiting on Jordan. "Woody?" he said.

"Nigel…thanks for letting me know." He stuck out his hand for Nigel to shake and was surprised when the Brit readily took it.

"She's in there, mate," Nigel replied softly, nodding toward a small room. "She wanted another minute alone with her dad before she went home."

"How's she doing?"

Nigel's face nearly crumpled. "Not good. Max hadn't spoken to her in months. Then all of a sudden she gets this call that a funeral home in Bismark is shipping his body to Boston…"

"Bismark? What the hell…"

Nigel shook his head. "We don't know…there's a lot of unanswered questions that right now Jordan doesn't care about knowing the answers to. She just misses her dad…and you. She needs you, Woody."

Woody nodded and headed off to the small room that Nigel had indicated. Jordan was still there…looking extremely small and fragile as Woody saw her standing by her father's coffin, looking in. Her hair was up, with little wisps falling around her neck. The black dress she had on just emphasized her vulnerability…and the dark circles under her eyes. "Jordan?" he whispered softly, so as not to surprise her.

She turned at the sound of his voice. All evening she had hoped he would come…but when nine-thirty had rolled around and still no Woody, she had given up hope that he even still cared about her a little bit. That he might find time to comfort her in her time of grief. "Woody…" she replied, "it's…it's…good of you to come." She held out her hand and he took it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been here earlier." He shut the door to the small room in order to give them privacy.

She shook her head. "I understand. It's just good to see you." She turned back to the body in the casket. Woody heard her take a deep, shaky breath. "This was just so sudden, you know?"

"I know…" He came up behind her and gently put his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. He felt her sag against him. "Do you know what happened?"

"According to the ME is South Dakota, he had a massive heart attack. He never knew what hit him…he had no pain," her voice cracked. "So…"

Woody turned her around and hugged her against him. "I'm so sorry, Jordan."

"It's bad enough that he died…but we hadn't talked in months, Woody. I didn't know how to get in touch with him…I tried. Nigel tried…but he was better at running away than I am…" Woody felt something warm and wet on his shirt. He pulled her closer, wanting Jordan to know, somehow even unconsciously, that even though he wasn't going to be able to stay long, his thoughts were with her…and that he wanted to be, even though he couldn't.

_God, I'll be glad when this assignment is over and I can tell her everything…before I fly out to Wisconsin…_ The quiet life of a dairy farmer was becoming more appealing everyday…knowing his life wouldn't be in danger…unless a cow got really upset with him and decided to kick…and knowing his emotions wouldn't have to deal with the mental Jordan Cavanaugh roller coaster.

But right now, that roller coaster was snuggled in his arms and it felt so good and right, he was having a hard time pulling away and leaving. The first time in her life that she really needed him to be there for her and he was going to have to turn a cold shoulder and leave before too much longer.

The wet spot was getting bigger. He reached across and grabbed a tissue off a table to the left of the casket. "Hey…" he tried to pull away long enough to wipe her face, but found her snuggling closer. _Damn…damn The Old Irish Rose, Little Johnny, Renee' Walcott, Captain Freeman…damn, damn, damn…_ "Jordan," he finally whispered. "I need to go. I can't be away from the bar too long…I just wanted you to know that I was so sorry to hear about Max," he raised her face long enough to wipe the tears away gently with the tissue, "And you're in my thoughts…I know how you feel, baby…just remember that." He began to try to pull away from her…set her out of his arms.

Jordan nodded, looking up into the face of the man who held heart, but obviously didn't care any longer…That hurt to know…but right now, she needed him. Needed him more than at any other point in her life. And for once, she told that little voice in her head…the one that continued to shout warnings about a relationship with Woody to shut the hell up. She tightened her grip on him. "Stay with me…please, Woody? I really need you right now…please, don't leave me?"

_Damn…she's asked me that for the second time…_ Woody swallowed hard and steeled himself against the pleading look in her honey-colored eyes. "I can't, Jo. I have to go. The bar…"

"The bar? The Rose is more important to you now than….than your friends?" Jordan was about to ask if the bar was more important than her, but she didn't want to know the answer to that question…at least not yet.

"I would stay if I could…but I can't." _Walcott is having a fit as it is…_

Jordan let go of him abruptly. "Fine…then go. I understand…" she turned to gaze at her father's face one more time before leaving. "I'm used to it, you know."

"Used to what?" Woody tried to put his arm around her as she walked to the door.

"The men in my life leaving…when I really need them…I guess maybe JD was right about me."

"JD?" Woody felt all the air leave his lungs. Was the Aussie here tonight? Was he going to comfort Jordan now that Woody couldn't?

"I'm too independent. I give people the impression I don't need anyone." She turned and looked Woody in the eyes then. "But you know what? I do. I need someone…I need you tonight…but I understand. I guess that ship has sailed…" She shrugged, opened the door, and left, looking around for Nigel.

Leaving Woody to stand there for a full minute, gathering his thoughts. _She believes it's over…That's good. Now she'll stay the hell out of the bar and away from trouble. _He raked his fingers through his hair as one final thought struck him. _And that will make going back home to Kewuanne a lot easier. I may not need to talk to her when this assignment ends after all…just leave. I'm sure if I ask Renee', she'll clue Jordan in on exactly what happened._

They were turning out the lights in funeral home. With another deep sigh, Woody walked outside. Her truck was gone, as was Nigel's bike. He imagined the criminalist was going home with Jordan tonight to make sure she was okay and to keep her company.

God, he wished it could be him. He would take her back to her apartment and just hold her…

But that wasn't going to happen. Not now. Probably not ever.

The ringing of his Boston PD cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Freeman had given him a new one on this assignment…with a new number known only to Walcott, Woody, and him. It was a secure line…one that Woody didn't have to worry about the mob listening in on. "Hoyt," he said softly in the receiver.

"How'd it go?" Renee's voice filtered through the other end.

Woody stood for a minute, fighting back tears. "She's hurting."

"I know. I was there earlier."

"I wish…"

"I know that, too. But you can't. And Jordan would be the first one fighting for justice on this case. She'll understand when it's all over."

Woody took a deep breath. "I don't know. Tonight was … difficult. Just do me a favor, Renee'?"

"Keep an eye on her?"

"No…I think Nigel and Garret will do that. Just…when this is all over, explain this to her after I've left for Wisconsin."

"Why don't you do that?"

"No." Woody shook his head vehemently, even though Renee' couldn't see it. "The minute this assignment is over, my ass is going to be on a plane to Milwaukee." He flipped his phone shut and got in his car, pulling out of the parking lot into the darkness of a cold Boston night.

Completely unaware of a dark sedan that was following him.


	5. My Heart Still Goes Back to You

**Chapter Five**

**My Heart Still Goes Back to You**

He got back to the bar a little after midnight. He had driven around for a while after he left the funeral home… trying to clear his head and think coherently. When he finally pulled into his parking place at the Rose and came in the back way, he found Little Johnny waiting on him. "We need to talk, Hoyt," he said. "Your office. Now."

Swallowing the taste of fear, Woody led the mobster into his office and shut the door. "Yeah, Johnny?"

"I need to know something. What's your relationship with this dead people's doctor?"

"Jordan?"

"Yeah, her. I found out she's an ME for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Figured you two worked together while you were a detective, but what's going on with you two now?"

"Nothing, really. I mean, there hasn't been in a long time. Once….but that's a long time ago…and we were both at completely different place in our lives and was completely different people."

"She and her friends are coming around a little too much for my comfort."

Woody looked at the floor for a minute. Whatever he did, he had to make sure that Jordan didn't come back to the Rose for any reason. "I'll make sure that Nigel and Jordan don't come back to the Rose again. It's just that, I guess I'm the last person they expected to run the Rose…"

"So they're trying to bring you back from the dark side?" Little Johnny laughed at his reference to Star Wars.

Woody chuckled with him, feeling the tension in the room ease a bit. "Yeah. Something like that."

Johnny looked him straight in the eyes. "You're one of the few people that have always been honest with me, Hoyt. So I believe you. Just make sure they stay away. Might scare off the clientele."

"I will. I promise I'll make sure they understand in no uncertain terms."

"Good. Now…I think there are some folks out here that want to see you as soon as you're settled."

Woody nodded and let Johnny out of his office, shutting the door behind the man, then leaning against it and taking a deep breath. He had gotten off easy this time. And if Johnny ever even got a whiff that he was undercover and deceiving the mobster…it wouldn't be pretty.

And heaven help him if Johnny ever made the connection between Jordan and Max.

_Thank God Boston's an Irish city and Cavanaugh is a fairly common Irish name…_But a vague feeling of unease hung over Woody …and in the days following he couldn't seem to shake it.

* * *

_I give people the impression I don't need anyone. But you know what? I do. I need someone…I need you tonight…but I understand. I guess that ship has sailed…_

Jordan's comment echoed through Woody's thoughts for the next month. Every time he thought he had put the entire event behind him, something at the Rose would remind him of the Pogue, and then memories of Max and what that place had meant to Jordan would fill his mind. Visions of the good times they had all had there together…dancing with her…the re-enactments to solve cold crimes. But of course that was all BS…before the shooting. Before he had become the cold son of a bitch that had made him so perfect for this assignment.

What was even worse was the image of Jordan's eyes when she told him that she needed him…the hurt…yet, the acceptance of what wasn't going to be between them any longer. That was what haunted him the most…those eyes and the knowledge that she had no idea how much he still loved her.

That, coupled with what little Boston police gossip he still heard, bothered him. The word was that Jordan wasn't coping with Max's death. She wasn't sleeping well…or eating right…and working far too many hours. This didn't surprise him. That was Jordan Cavanaugh's classic way of coping.

But still, he wasn't there to watch over her like he had in the past, even when they were estranged. And despite Johnny's warning, Woody kept wishing he could see her…just one more time. However, as the days passed, and no sighting of Jordan, Woody couldn't deal with it any longer. He had to see her…and finally figured out how to do it without Johnny finding out. If Jordan couldn't and wouldn't come to him, he would go to her.

* * *

Jordan sighed and shut the big, red door to her apartment. Leaning against it for a moment, she took off her earrings and threw them on the counter along with her car keys. Dropping her pocketbook on the couch, she shed her coat and slung it over the back of a chair on the way to her bedroom. It had been another long day in the middle of a long week, that was wedged in the middle of the month from hell. She stripped and got ready to get in the shower. It wasn't the fact that her case load was any heavier or more difficult than she wanted. It was like Garret had told her one time: Dead bodies are easy to deal with. It's the live ones that give you problems. Jordan winced at the words. In her predicament, it was a little of both. 

Max. He had been in Bismark visiting old friends and was working his way back to Boston. Back home. Back to her. He was ready to make amends and be her father again. Then a massive heart attack put an end to his plans. Whatever words he had wanted to say to her were left unsaid. Not even a lousy, damn phone call in the preceding months to ease his conscious and her mind…no… he had wanted to wait to see her in person. It was some small comfort that he had been heading home. It would have been a bigger comfort to know what he wanted to say to her. She turned the water in the shower on as hot as she could stand it and got in.

So that was the dead body that was causing her problems. Her father. It was hard to think of him as dead, but he was. She had his death certificate to prove it. The live body that was still causing her issues was ensconced in a bar on South Boston. Woody. She remembered what she had told him…and that he had rejected her yet one more time. She had needed him so badly the night of her father's wake…him and only him. To hold her. Tell her everything would be all right. Other people had told her that, but she didn't believe them. Woody…however, would be different. Woody had been where she was at. He knew the grief of losing both parents. If Woody had held her and told her that she would be okay, she would have believed it.

Instead, Jordan didn't think she would ever be the same…she had lost her father and her heart. Her father to a massive heart attack and her heart to a man who didn't love her. Maybe he never did.

That fact did nothing to negate her feelings toward him. Her heart was still his…and she still ached to be held by him. _The chances of that ever happening are slim to none,_ she thought as she climbed out of the shower and toweled dry. She wrapped the towel around her and walked to the bedroom to get ready for bed, pulling the sheets and blankets down. She was tired. More tired than she realized. Foregoing the normal girl boxers and tank top, she dropped the towel and climbed into bed completely nude. Her already drooping eyelids told her that for once sleep was going to come easily and quickly.

And it did…and she slept soundly until she thought she heard a noise…the sound of her window quietly being raised. However, her exhausted body was having problems responding to the warning her brain was sending out. It wasn't until she felt a hand brush her hair out of her face that her eyes responded and a scream seized her lungs.

Only to be tamped down by a hard hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened in fear as all she could see was a hooded figured in the dark, sitting beside her on the bed. "Shh….." a voice said.

A familiar voice. _Woody?_

"If I take my hand off your mouth, do you promise not to scream?"

She nodded and felt his hand leave her mouth and flip on the lamp beside her bed. Then he pushed the hood of his jacket off of his head so she could see it was him. "Woody? What are you doing here?"

Woody chuckled self-consciously and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "I wanted to come and check on you. I heard…I heard ... anyway, I was worried about you."

"I'm …I guess I'm okay." Jordan sat up in bed, careful to keep the sheets wrapped around her bare body. "Why'd you have to come like this? So late…and breaking in my apartment."

"I didn't break in. You left your window unlocked. You always have. All I had to do was climb up the fire escape and crawl in."

"And?"

"And I had to see you this way because Johnny is getting a little suspicious of our…our….friendship."

Jordan nearly snorted at Woody's description of their relationship. It could hardly be called friendship. It could hardly be called anything, to tell the truth. "Did you tell him he had nothing to worry about?"

Woody pulled one hand out of his pocket and raked it though his hair. "He knows you're an ME, Jordan. He's worried that if you and Nigel keep coming by the bar, it's going to spook the clientele."

She did snort then and longed to throw the sheets aside and put some distance between them. But in her present state of undress, she couldn't. "Don't you mean the mob?" she asked, bitterness tingeing her voice as she clutched the sheets a little tighter to her. She still couldn't imagine Woody entangling himself with this group.

"They're not all mobsters," he said, amusement lacing his voice.

"They're not fine, upstanding citizens, either."

He shook his head. "No…most of them aren't. Anyway, I just came by to see how you were doing…" He looked at her closely for a minute. Satisfied with what he saw, he continued. "I guess I should go now." He turned the bedside lamp off, stood up and walked back over to the window, reaching down to raise it again until he heard a quiet voice in the darkness.

"Why?"

"Why what, Jordan?"

"Why did you have to go to work for them? I have friends at Massachusetts Technologies…I could have gotten you on in security there."

_I wish I could tell you…but Walcott would have my balls on a platter…_The DA had been adamant. She wanted no leaks. Only Woody, Freeman, herself and the two informants knew about Woody's undercover role at the Rose. Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I told you. The bad guys were winning. I want to be on the winning team for a change."

Even through the darkness, he could see her shake her head. "This doesn't sound like you, Woody. Not the Woody I know and lo…loved."

"Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought you did," he responded quietly and coldly.

"No…I knew you pretty well, Hoyt. At least I thought I did…maybe you're right. Maybe we've both grown apart…turned into two very different people." She heard him reach for the window again. "But one thing hasn't changed. I still love you, Woody."

_Damn….Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn._ God help him….but the Deity was nowhere in sight. He was drawn back to the bed to sit down one more time. Blindly he reached out and touched her cheek. "You shouldn't."

"You're the person who once said, 'People fall in and out of love. You go where your heart takes you'. I can't help my heart goes back to you."


	6. This Moment

**Chapter Six**

**This Moment**

Jordan reached up and put her hand over his, keeping his palm cupped to her cheek. "I do, you know…still love you. I know I've told you that before and you didn't believe me. I can't say I blame you, but it's the truth. And if you leave tonight…and we never see each other again…or speak to each other again…I want you to know that what I feel is real. And that I do…really love you." She turned her head and kissed his palm.

Woody felt fire, ice, and flood pulse through his arm at her soft caress. His other arm automatically went around her waist as his hand tilted her head up and found her waiting lips. A gentle kiss was what he was expecting. One that was filled with the sadness of a love that probably wasn't going to be requited.

What he got was one that was one that was an emotional maelstrom. The soft caress he had envisioned began to quickly change into something very different when Jordan opened her mouth and made no protest when his tongue traced her lips and then began a gentle exploration of her mouth.

He meant it to end then. He really did. But when Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close, the sheet that she had held around her slipped down, and suddenly Woody found himself in a very precarious prediction. Not that he minded.

And evidently, neither did she. Jordan just pressed herself closer and Woody felt and heard the low moan coming from the back of her throat.

He snapped then. Everything…all the control he had exercised with her now and in the past … was gone as he pushed the sheet and blanket further down and pulled her closer, nearly into his lap now. She smelled like jasmine and felt like silk…and was still offering no token of protest as he wrapped her long hair around one hand and skated the other down her back. He broke the embrace only long enough to pull his jacket the rest of the way off and let her help him tug the sweater off that was under it.

He paused then…to look at her…her smoky eyes and her lips that were now swollen from his kisses. Hesitated long enough that she could tell him to stop…that this was a mistake…it wasn't the right time…instead she ran her hands up and over his chest, pausing at the scar that bore witness to the bullet that had changed everything in their lives. Instead of pushing him away, she looked in his eyes and whispered again, "Please…don't leave me…not this time…please?"

_Dear God…_was nearly his last coherent thought. Her soft plea had been his complete undoing. Cradling her head with one hand and keeping the other on the small of her back, he gently eased her down onto the bed, pausing long enough to take off his pants, shoes and socks before lying down beside her.

The trite comment, "Are you sure?" never passed either one of their lips. As a matter of fact, there were no words at all – they both knew the time had long passed for such statements. They both were sure…they both wanted this. Woody knew it instinctively when she pulled him back down for another kiss and felt it in her response when he palmed her breast. Gasping, she arched against him and pulled him closer, running her hands over his back and neck, and anchoring them in his hair.

For Jordan, the time stood still. Woody was all she was aware of…his smell, the taste of his skin and lips…the fact that he was loving her. She shuddered when his mouth found that sensitive spot just below her ear…then felt his lips and tongue begin a trail down her neck, to the hollow at the base of her throat where she felt his teeth rasp against her skin.

And every nerve ending in her body stood up when he took her nipple in his mouth, paying it the same attention with his lips that he had with his hand. She opened her legs to hold him even closer, her hips rising to meet his, a silent invitation to take things further.

An invitation Woody readily accepted, trailing his hand down her abdomen to the sensitive area between her legs, and feeling her buck against him in response. He sighed his approval against her skin as he began to tenderly explore her in ways he had only dreamed about before.

But her response made his dreams pale in comparison. She was hot and tight against his finger, moaning her need against his lips. "Now…"

Instead he made no attempt to rush the moment…wanting this time…maybe the last time they'd be together…to last as long as possible.

Or at least as long as he could safely make it. The last thing he wanted was for Johnny to discover where he was at and where Jordan lived. If the mobster was uneasy with the way his and Jordan's relationship was in the past, now it would be even worse…because at the end of the night, Woody wasn't sure he could walk away and leave her.

But he would have to. For her own safety…and his assignment.

However, that was still hours away…and they had right now. This moment. Deftly, he kissed his way down her thigh and calf, and back up the other leg until she was squirming beneath him. Then with one hand at the small of her back and the other arm bracing himself, he slid into her.

If he had thought she was hot and slick before…_Oh God…she has no idea what she is doing to me_…Woody thought as he felt his control completely slip when she rocked against him and took him deeper.

* * *

He wasn't sure what woke him…whether it was the soft sigh she let out in her sleep or just the unconscious awareness that he needed to leave. Quietly, he got out of bed and reached for his pants, hoping not to wake her. He'd leave her a note and slip away…and after the case was closed maybe they could sort out what had happened between them last night. What it meant. Did it mean anything? For the life of him, Woody knew that it did. It meant something. Probably everything. Jordan had given herself to him last night every time he had asked. In everyway he had asked. If only this had happened at another time and another place in their lives.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Woody heard her soft voice break in over his thoughts. Busted.

"I have to, Jor."

"No, you don't. Stay here with me." She got up and sat behind him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her still bare body against his back. "You don't have to go back…I can get you that job at Massachusetts Technologies. We can be together…things can work out."

Woody shut his eyes against the temptation. "I can't. You know that." He stood and slid on his pants and sweater.

"You can." Feeling suddenly bereft of the warmth of his body, Jordan clutched the blanket to her. "You could…if you really wanted to."

He zipped the jacket up and turned, keeping his back to her. If he looked her in the eyes, he was afraid he'd tell her everything…blow the assignment and his cover…

But was it worth possibly ruining anything he could have with Jordan now? Swallowing hard, he prayed she'd understand when it was all over. "You know the mob, Jordan. Once you're in, you're in. And I'm in…I'm Little Johnny's right hand man at the Rose…"

"M-L-I-T." She spelled out the word.

"M-L-I-T?" He turned around and looked at her then.

"Mob lord in training," she sadly replied, looking up at him with tears filling her eyes.

"Yeah. Something like that." He shoved his feet in his shoes. If he didn't get out of her bedroom soon, he'd never want to leave. Not that that was such a bad idea….given how his body was responding to the thought.

"Please…don't leave, Woody. Stay…" she asked one more time.

_Shit_. "I have to…I just came by to see if you were okay…I heard you were still taking Max's death hard…and I was worried. I never expected this," he glanced toward her bed…a mess of rumpled bed linens and blankets… "to happen."

"Are you sorry it did?" she quietly asked.

For the life of him, he couldn't lie to her about this. Not about making love to her. It would crush her and ruin anything they might have between them. "No. No, I'm not. But I do have to go." He raised the window up enough he could climb out of it and onto her fire escape. Her sniffle caught him off guard. _Hell…_

Woody reached out and lightly touched her cheek, feeling a warm wetness on her skin. "Don't cry over me, Jor. It's okay," he said as soothingly as possible. "Don't…" He kissed her then. A light caress, meant to banish her fears. He dared not touch any other part of her. It was too risky. He'd end up staying for another two hours at least and have to try to find his way back in broad daylight with the chance of being seen by the men he knew were already watching him pretty closely. He turned away quickly and climbed out the window.

Only to be stopped cold by her voice following him. "I love you."


	7. Sometimes Things Change

**Chapter Six**

**Sometimes Things Change**

Jordan swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Summer in Boston could be difficult enough, but coupled with a multi-car crash on the turnpike and you had total chaos, mayhem, death…and gut-wrenching humidity. There were currently at least seven victims that she and Nigel knew of. But the number was apt to rise as the Boston PD peeled the metal sheets of the wreckage away…like so many layers on an onion. And like an onion, the whole mess was apt to smell and bring tears to one's eyes.

"Love, we have a van full," Nigel said to her, taking her by the arm to lead her away to the SUV she had driven to the scene. "What's say you follow it back to the morgue and begin? I'll be there in a little while."

"Hmmm? What?" Jordan asked absent-mindedly, tucking in the sheet a little closer around one of the youngest victims. A little girl. Probably no older than four or five. Jordan felt the bile rise in her throat.

"Jordan, did you just hear a word I just said?" Nigel asked, looking at her closely. "Are you okay, love? Because if you're not, I can always call in Bug…"

Jordan shook her head. "No. No, don't do that. Bug's been busting his ass for a while now and deserves a few days off. I'm fine…just….a bad night, you know?"

Nigel nodded, still not convinced. Jordan had gone days without sleep before…and he had never seen her this rattled. He wondered if it could have anything to do with a late night call from the past…that damn tabloid reporter or Vegas Boy.

Or could it be the fact that she was still in love with Woody and missed him more than she let on? Jordan seldom mentioned the cases she and Woody worked when he was a detective. She never said a word about how much she missed him. Not even to Nigel…one of her best friends.

But Nigel knew. He would catch her in off moments, looking out the window at the Nineteenth Precinct with a far away look in her eyes. He imagined she was wondering what Woody was doing at the Rose and why he was doing it. And did the former detective know he was breaking her heart. Running his hand down her arm, he helped her in the SUV. "Go back and begin trace. I'll be in as soon as I can. Meanwhile, do not work past five o'clock, do you hear me? Go home and get some rest. I'll cover for you with Macy."

Jordan nodded, too exhausted to argue. She was tired. Last night had drained her physically and emotionally…and she imagined the nights ahead would be no different. Reluctantly she put the truck in drive and made her way back to the morgue on auto-pilot, letting her mind wander as she drove the familiar streets of Boston.

Not a word. She hadn't heard a word from Woody since that night and it had been three months since he had climbed into her bedroom window like some ill-fated scene from _Romeo and Juliet_. And like the star-crossed lovers, Jordan had come to realize more and more that their future had been doomed from the beginning. First both of them danced around each other…then Woody danced closer and she pulled away. Then she danced closer and he pushed her away.

And then the dance was over. He was gone. Sucked into a world she could not imagine him ever being a part of…and a world that she could in no way belong to, no matter how much she loved him. If he was a MILT, she couldn't have a relationship with him. He had made that clear…not that she needed him to explain why. If she thought her relationship with JD had been filled with professional conflicts, she didn't want to imagine what a ME's relationship with a mobster would be like. Complicated would be the most minor of the descriptions.

That's what she told herself…repeatedly. Through the long, cold, lonely nights when she would wake up and swear she could still smell him on the sheets that she had washed countless times since that night. She kept telling herself she was better off without him…even in the dim reckonings that occurred at that place just between asleep and awake when she would swear that she could see his shadow on her wall and feel his lips against her skin one more time. At least they both had one night of sweet memories to carry with them the rest of their lives. At least they both finally knew what it was like to make love with each other. _Explosive._ There simply was no other word to describe it.

That's what she kept telling herself. One night was all she needed. It was all he needed. And until she either quit her job as a ME or he left the mob, it was all they could have.

But it wasn't enough. She had to see him again. It wasn't a want…it was a _need_. A real need. She felt it to her bones. And tonight…just as soon as five o'clock rolled around, she was taking Nigel's advice and leaving work. But she wouldn't go home.

She was going to the Rose.

* * *

Woody absent-mindedly laughed at the joke that Little Johnny just told him. They both were behind the bar, making sure it was stocked for the evening. Weekends had always been the Rose's busiest time, but lately clientele had built during the week, too. Which was what Johnny had wanted. The more the Rose looked like a legitimate bar, the less trouble he may have with the police because the place looked like a typical bar.

That was one of the reasons Woody knew Little Johnny hired him. Woodrow Wilson, ex-boy scout from Wisconsin, had no mob connections…unless someone dug really deep and found out Cal owed the Albanian mob money. Woody, by all appearances was a clean-cut, all-American young man who was just out to get ahead – make good – the all-American way, right?

So now the bar looked legit, even if mob activity still swarmed around it. Woody had won Johnny's confidence by being dependable, loyal, and a hard worker. In return, Woody had found out more about the underground world of the Boston Irish family than he ever dreamed of knowing.

He had been so successful that Walcott and Freeman were begging him to stay on another three to four months to tie up as many loose ends as he could. He had reluctantly agreed…not because he necessarily enjoyed this assignment anymore than he did in the beginning, but simply because there was nothing else for him to do. He was still planning on going back to Kewuanne…he was just in less of a rush to do so. Time was kind of standing still for him right now at the Rose. He worked from late afternoon until nearly three in the morning, went back to his apartment, slept until noon the next day, and then did it all over again. Occasionally Johnny would ask him to attend a "meeting" with him, which Woody willingly did. It just meant more information for Walcott and Freeman. More ammunition to put these guys away.

It was going well…great, even. Until he heard the bell jangle over the door. Someone had come into the bar a full two hours before they officially opened for business. "We're not open, yet," Woody said, before turning around to see who it was.

"I don't want a drink." Her voice came out cool and calm…not sounding at all like the breathless pleas she had uttered to him three months ago. The same pleadings that haunted his dreams at night. It couldn't be. Not after he had asked her not to come back…and gave her valid reasons not to…reasons even Jordan Cavanaugh could understand.

But it was her. Standing in the middle of the bar, her hands tucked in the back pockets of her jeans, looking as hot and sexy as ever. Idly he wondered if she would still be as hot and slick around his…he shook his head. "Jordan. What are you doing here?"

He caught her quick glance at Little Johnny. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure…can I get you something to drink?" _Buy time and get her out in one piece…_ "This is a surprise…I haven't heard from you in …months."

"Alone."

"What?"

"You heard me. I need to talk to you _alone_." This time her pointed glance made its way directly over to Johnny.

"No problem. There's a little work I need to see to in the kitchen. I'll be back there if you need me, Hoyt. Nice seeing you again, Dr. Cavanaugh," Little Johnny said as he made his way to the rear of the building.

Woody waited until he knew the mobster was out of ear shot. "I thought I told you never to come back here, Jordan." He kept his voice cold and professional.

"I know what you told me, but sometimes things change."

"That night…" he struggled to keep his voice soft, even, and menacing, "that night was just that…one night. Nothing more, nothing less. I know what you said, but it doesn't change a thing. Not one thing. So the best thing you can do is get out of here."

"Woody….look….I just needed to see you…"

"You've seen me. I'm fine. Now please go." He turned his back to her…willing himself not to turn and look at her one more time as she left the bar. If he did, he'd run after her and beg her to come stay. He knew he would.

But Jordan didn't leave. Instead she walked quietly walked up to the bar where he was standing, his back still to her.

"Woody…" her voice now held that pleading note that had been his downfall at her apartment that night. She had to leave. Now. Woody was sure that somewhere Johnny was watching and the mobster had to be convinced that Jordan now held no place in his life.

"Go Jordan. Get the fuck out of my bar and the fuck out of my life. Do you hear me? Now. Get out."

He heard her suck in a deep breath at this tone of voice. It was a cold as he had ever been with her. He curled his hands into a fist and prayed she would leave. A second later, he heard the click of her boot heels on the floor and the bell over the bar jangle again.

She was gone.

Woody breathed a sigh of relief and headed out the back door to make sure the alcohol deliveries had come in for that night. _I can't wait until this is over and I can explain myself to her…_ he thought as he opened the back door and blinked against the bright sunlight of a late Boston afternoon.

From his place behind the bar, Little Johnny had watched the whole exchange between Jordan and Woody. _She's really got the hots for him,_ he thought. Then the mobster even winced at the harshness of Woody's words to her. _I'm lucky to have Patty_, he thought. But Patty was an old-fashioned Irish girl. She had kept one blind eye to her husband's illegal dealings and as long as Little Johnny was explicitly faithful to her, she would ask no questions.

Johnny had no doubt that this ME would question everything Woody did right now. Woody was wise in putting the young woman in her place, even though it must have hurt like hell. Quietly the big man walked from the back room to the bar where Jordan had stood. She had left something on the counter.

Curious, Johnny walked over and picked it up, examining it closely. She obviously had left it for Hoyt to find. But this information could come in handy in controlling Hoyt in the future, should the need arise.

The mobster pocketed the positive pregnancy test and ambled over to his regular table at the bar.


	8. Me, Myself, and I

**Chapter Eight**

**Me, Myself, and I**

_Whoever the hell called this mess morning sickness had no clue what he was talking about, _Jordan thought to herself as she heaved one more time into her bathroom basin. In a cruel twist in the irony that was her life, Jordan was never sick in the morning. She woke up tired, but managed to pin on a happy face and get to work…most mornings on time.

But somehow her hormonal driven body seemed to know each night when eight o'clock came and her stomach would give Mt. Vesuvius a run for its money. She'd throw up breakfast, lunch, and dinner…plus spend most of the rest of the night running between her bed and the bathroom. She wavered on either putting a cot in the shower stall or a sink by her bed to cut down on having to run back and forth. And forget hurling in a trashcan or bucket. Emptying the contents of either just made her heave more.

Two months had passed since she had left Woody the positive pregnancy test at the bar. Two months. Sixty-one days. And no word from him about them, her, or their child. _Maybe he meant what he said,_ she thought between examining the tile work on her bathroom floor as she waited for the next wave of nausea to hit. _Maybe that night was just that…one night. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it meant nothing more to him than one night of sex…and it's up to me to deal with any consequences. _It was hard to think of their child as a "consequence."

When Woody had left her that night, she physically and mentally ached for him for days afterwards. A word. A call. A note. Anything. She understood why she couldn't go back to the bar. Her relationship with Woody could put him _and_ her in jeopardy.

Now that baby was making three, the stakes had been raised even higher.

As the days passed, and then a month, after their one night together, Jordan began to notice subtle changes in her body. A fullness in her breasts, coupled with a tenderness she wasn't used to. Her emotions could run the range gamut in fifteen minutes. She would be weepy, then happy. It was dizzying. Her appetite, which had always been sparse, grew sparser as food held no appeal to her at all.

She blamed it on stress, working too hard, the flu….anything but what was staring her in the face. Finally, when the time for her period came and went twice, she sucked it up and stole a pregnancy test out of trace, took it home, and ran it in the privacy of her own bathroom.

It came back blue. She was pregnant.

More than just pregnant. She was expecting Woody's baby…a man who was now linked to Boston's Irish mob families.

She was pregnant with a mob lord's baby.

For the first time in years, Jordan felt pure panic run through her. Stuffing the test in her pocketbook, she got in her El Camino and drove aimlessly through the Boston streets until she had somehow found herself at Garret's. When he answered her knock and asked her what was wrong, she had simply handed him the test. He had pulled her in side, sat her on his couch, and held her until her crying had stopped…or at least slowed down.

"You're pregnant, Jor?" He had to ask…he needed to hear it from her own lips.

She nodded.

"I know this may be none of my business, but who's the father?"

"Woody." It had came out of mouth in a broken, bitter whisper.

"Does he know?"

Jordan shook her head. "You're the first….besides me," she replied, choking back a bitter laugh.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Not yet. I don't know…Maybe. Things are kind of ….difficult between us right now."

Garret nodded. He could only imagine. And now that Jordan was pregnant with Woody's child…it was only going to get more difficult.

And Garret had been right. As the days continued to pass, Garret had made sure that Jordan had regular hours, overlooked her napping on her couch…and unobtrusively took her out of some of her usual tasks, such as x-rays. Jordan was thankful for his attention…but could not ignore the continued changes in her own body. Her size two jeans quickly grew too small by the third month. It was then she could not deny or hide the fact that she was having Woody's baby. And it was then she went to the Rose.

And it was then, once again, Woody cut her off, shut her down, and kicked her out of his life. She had hoped the positive pregnancy test would make some sort of difference to him, but it didn't. She still hadn't heard a word.

By this month, the middle of her second trimester, she couldn't hide the fact from anyone that life was growing in her. She sat Nigel, Lily, and Bug down and told them that she was expecting. She didn't tell them who the father was. After their initial shock had worn off, they tiptoed around the issue…not sure if she was happy or not with her impending motherhood.

Only Nigel seemed to guess that there was more to this baby than just…a baby. That the father could jeopardize the baby's future. He had been mum about it at the morgue, but had questioned Jordan closely about it one night at her apartment.

And left frustrated because she would neither confirm nor deny the baby was Woody's. As far as Jordan was concerned, the fewer people that knew who the father was, the better.

But keeping the fact from the father…that was something Jordan really didn't want to do, but felt she had no choice. The Woody she knew…the old Woody... the Woody he was before a bullet had changed him…would have been over the moon at the thought of a baby. Jordan smiled at what that Woody's reaction would be. He would have moved in, not let her lift a finger…took care of her and their baby. Insisted on marrying her.

However, like she had said to Woody before, _sometimes things change._ And they certainly had. Now she faced single motherhood without a definite support system in place. Oh sure, Nigel and Garret would be there, but Nigel definitely had a life outside of work – even if Jordan didn't understand it – and Garret was still battling the loss of Renee' and his attachment to the scotch bottle.

The only person Jordan could depend on was herself. _Me, myself, and I_….

* * *

Woody stood in the doorway of the Rose and looked across the street at the flames that were greedily licking their way through a neighboring building. It was an old building, with no sprinkler system or even fire alarms. An old textile warehouse that had sat empty for years, owned by one of the older families in Boston…the McMartins.

The warehouse, due to years of neglect and then total abandonment, had been falling apart. Not that it really mattered. Textile jobs in Boston had long gone south to Mexico. The warehouse, in and of itself, had little value to anyone in its present state of disrepair.

But the property it was on did. Woody knew that Little Johnny had been lusting after that corner piece of real estate for years. He had offered the McMartins good money…a lot of money…for it. But because the warehouse and the lot was actually owned by numerous McMartin heirs, it was nearly impossible to get the whole group of them to agree on a price.

Little Johnny had reach the point where part of his "business" needed expansion. His chop shops needed a bigger location and one that Johnny could keep under his watchful eye. That piece of property fit the bill. So with time and patience lacking, he had offered one more sweet deal to the McMartins. Woody was there when Johnny gave them the proposal.

He was also there when their lawyer shot it down.

The drive back to the Rose had been a silent one. Johnny didn't say a thing until they had gotten back to the bar. Then Woody had seen the mobster pull out his cell phone and punch a number. When the person on the other end answered, all Johnny had said was "Do it." It was whispered quietly and Johnny had immediately flipped his phone shut.

Woody said nothing, but simply went about his business at the bar. It was only later that he could safely report what he had overheard to Captain Freeman and Renee'. He couldn't give them a date or time or even exactly what it was that Johnny had wanted done. He just knew something was going to happen. Renee' had put men all over it; called in paid informants….but nothing could be discovered.

Until this morning when the fire alarms sounded. Woody heard them from his apartment and had high tailed it to the Rose, afraid that somehow, someway, the bar had caught fire. Instead he was confronted with blockaded roads, fire trucks, and the Boston PD. He had backtracked, parked six blocks from the bar and jogged to the back entrance. Inside he had found Little Johnny calmly watching the activity across the street. When he caught sight of Woody, the mobster had simply smiled, took another long draw off his cigarette, and walked back into his office. No words were exchanged, but Woody knew. He knew that the mobster was behind the arson. Johnny may not have lit the match, but he had set fire to the events that did.

And that's all Woody thought it was. An arson fire at an old, abandoned, textile warehouse. Until he heard the paramedics yell for the Boston PD to call the ME's office and get someone out there, quick. They had found a body inside the warehouse. Probably a homeless person, but the police would want the ME to determine cause of death.

So now he watched in fascination as the morgue van pulled up and he saw Nigel get out of the driver's side. Then he saw _her_. Jordan. With her hair pulled back and her sunglasses on…he watched her go inside the building. He had to stop himself from shouting at her to be careful…burned buildings could be compromised so quickly and collapse without warning. It seemed she was in there for hours, when in actuality, it was only about 45 minutes. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw her come back out and tell the other morgue worker to go and help Nigel load the body.

It was then he noticed the bulge around her middle. And he didn't have to be a mathematician to add up what had happened.

Jordan was pregnant. With his child. _Holy shit…._


	9. What Does Johnny Know?

**Chapter Nine**

**What Does Johnny Know?**

Jordan helped Nigel bring the burnt body back upstairs to the morgue. Or helped as much as he would let her. Ever since she began her sixth month of pregnancy and her "baby bulge" became much more pronounced, everyone she worked with had gone into protective hyper drive. She would find fruit, milk, and water on her desk…and only Nigel knew her secret craving….and on occasion she would find a post-it note on her computer telling her to look in the freezer. It was there she would find a Hershey bar with Almonds. It had to be Hershey's. And it had to be frozen.

But once they got the body in trace, Nigel let her loose to do her thing…except for any x-rays, which he was doing now. Full dentals, in hope that somewhere out there a match could be found. The face was burnt beyond recognition, but even if it was in pristine shape, Jordan would bet her next Hershey's this was a homeless man with no records in their data base or CODA's.

"Done?" she asked Nigel before she stepped back in trace. He had made her leave when he started taking x-rays.

"Complete. You can come back in, love."

Jordan stepped over to the exam table and began running an ultraviolet light over the man. And stopped cold when she got to the hands. The light turned purple. "Nigel…this guy has accelerant on his hands…."

"Do you think he maybe got in the way of the arsonist…tried to take the man out or stop the fire?"

"Or started the fire himself?" Jordan raised one eyebrow at Nigel. "Have you got a match with his dentals?"

"Not yet, but the system is still searching."

Jordan moved to what was left of the man's face, gingerly examining it and once again stopping cold. "Nigel…I may be wrong, but I don't think the fire killed this man."

"Smoke inhalation, love?"

Jordan shook her head. "No. More like a .22 caliber. To the head." She pointed the entrance wound out to Nigel.

"Curiouser and curiouser…" Nigel said, looking at the wound with great interest. "And with the accelerant on his hands…"

"Either we're looking at a homeless person who put up one hell of a fight…"

The computer dinged. Nigel took a long look at it before turning the screen around for Jordan to see. "Or we're looking at the arsonist himself." A match was found: Joey "The Kid" McPherson. Known Irish mob affiliate. Known Irish mob arsonist.

"Yeah. So we know who started the fire…." Jordan began.

"But who killed Joey?" Nigel followed up.

Jordan sighed. She had no real evidence, but she would wager Little Johnny was behind it, if he didn't pull the trigger himself. _Just who the hell has Woody got himself wrapped up with? _she thought while hearing her heart break just a little more. _And why?_

* * *

"Any clue yet as to what happened?" Woody whispered into his cell phone. As soon as he had finished at the bar that night and had returned to his apartment, he called the DA. He wasn't sure why he was whispering, other than the fact that he was growing increasingly uneasy about being at the bar. Until now, other than some racketeering and some prostitution, Little Johnny had presumably been fairly innocuous as mobsters go.

Woody's perspective changed when he saw Nigel bring a body out of the ruined warehouse. It became clearer when he saw Jordan…and realized she was pregnant. With his baby.

"We can't nail down everything exactly…but Jordan and Nigel have identified the arsonist as Joey "The Kid" McPherson. I e-mailed you a mug shot. Do you recognize him at all? Has he come to the bar any at all?"

"Hang on." Woody took a minute to boot up his laptop and download the mug shot. "No. As far as I know, this man has never come into the bar and I haven't seen him at any of the meetings Johnny has asked me to go to with him."

Woody heard Renee' let out a long sigh. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"The kicker is this, Hoyt. Joey didn't die from being burnt or from smoke inhalation. Jordan found a .22 caliber bullet wound in the back of his head."

_Mob execution. Joey knew too much about something…_ Woody thought, rapidly trying to tie all the ends of the case together.

"Does Johnny own a .22?" Renee' asked.

"I'll be honest, Renee'. I know his henchmen carry guns…mainly .22's. But I've never seen Little Johnny even handle a gun. He has someone else do it for him."

"But you said he was the one that made the phone call…the one that probably told Joey to 'do it'."

"That doesn't mean he executed Joey."

"That doesn't mean he didn't do it, either," Renee' countered. "He more than had the capacity to get a gun…and if this was just between he and Joey, it would have kept it clean. Bringing in another henchman to do his dirty work would have muddied the waters even more. If the only two people he wanted to know about torching that old McMartin warehouse were himself and Joey, then Johnny killed Joey. The question is, do you think Johnny only wanted Joey to know about the arson….and would Johnny kill Joey?"

Woody took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then softly he replied. "I don't know. I can see it going both ways…but off hand, right now…I'd say yes. Johnny could have killed Joey."

"Any chance you can get him to confess? Johnny puts a lot of trust in you…"

"I can try."

"Would you be willing to wear a wire?"

_If I'm found out…Johnny would kill me. He wouldn't hesitate to make an example out of me. And my kid will grow up without a father…like I had to. _"What kind of back up would I have?"

"The best. I'll get with Freeman tomorrow and we'll begin to set it up…all under the table and hush-hush."

Woody sighed. "Then this means the assignment is winding down…"

"Sure is. You ready for Kewuanne, Hoyt?"

The thought jolted Woody back to reality. He hadn't thought of Kewuanne in weeks…months… not since he had made love to Jordan. All he had focused on was completing the case and telling her why he had to affiliate himself with the Irish mob…that he hadn't turned bad….he was undercover. "No," he said sharply.

"But I thought…"

"I need to see Jordan. Now," he interrupted.

"Can't it wait until this is over?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because…because….the baby she's carrying…it's mine."

Woody heard Renee' suck in a deep breath. "So you've seen her before now….obviously."

"All done discreetly and secretively. No one knew. Not even you."

The breath was blown out. "Okay, Hoyt. Just be as discreet as you were last time…and keep it short. And don't tell her you're undercover…at least not yet."

"Will do."

Woody hung up the phone with satisfaction. At least this mob nightmare was coming to an end…soon, maybe his life could return to normal…whatever that was going to be now.

* * *

Sundays were normally laundry days for Jordan. She'd pack all her dirty clothes, towels, and bed sheets up and head for the laundry mat down the street, arriving early while most of the other good citizens of Massachusetts were in church. She sighed as she hefted her laundry bags from the back of her El Camino and into one of the buggies at the Suds and Duds. This would have to stop. Soon. _I need to see about getting my own washer and dryer…_she thought as she sorted her clothes. _I know with a baby I'll probably be washing everyday…and night…I probably need a bigger apartment, too….eventually, anyway. I can't see raising a child in a loft…Apartment or condo…or townhouse…or dad's house?_ Jordan sat down, suddenly dizzy at the array of necessities she abruptly realized she would have to attend to with the baby.

Alone. She would have to do all of this alone. Woody was not going to help her…not a bit, it seemed. She had hoped when she answered the call at the warehouse across the street from the Rose that he would at least see her…but that didn't happen. Now fully into her sixth month, she still hadn't heard anything out of him. Very unWoody…and her already fractured heart broke a little more every time she thought about it.

But she could do this. If she was a big enough girl to get pregnant…then she was a big enough girl to handle it. All of it.

At least she hoped so.

She stood back up and began to sort her laundry again when a movement caught the corner of her eye. A man, in a hooded sweatshirt, ball cap, and sunglasses came in from the back. _That's odd…_ she thought a little uneasily.

But when he walked up beside her she knew…the aftershave gave it away long before she glanced at his face. _Woody…only he would remember I always skip mass and do my laundry on Sunday._

He dropped a load of clothes beside of hers. "Do you know if they have a wash and fold service here?" he asked casually, as if he was speaking to a stranger.

"Su…sure…" Jordan managed to stammer, still somewhat in shock. "Over there…at the counter."

"Thanks." He turned to her with a smile and grabbed his dirty clothes. Jordan watched him walk to the counter and leave his laundry with Mr. Askani, then just as casually stroll out of the laundry mat.

It was then she noticed he had dropped something at her feet. Awkwardly bending down, she picked it up. A piece of paper…a note…She unfolded it and read: _Be sure to leave your bedroom window unlocked tonight. We need to talk. Woody._ Jordan carefully refolded the note and stuck it in her back pocket. She'd finish here and go home…and wait for night to fall.

* * *

This time Jordan didn't fall asleep…nausea was still keeping her up most of the night. She had just sat back down on her bed after another round with the porcelain pony when she heard her unlocked window slowly being raised…and then one leg slid in. Woody climbed inside and quietly slid the window shut.

He stood there for a moment, nearly a silhouette in Jordan's lamp light, before he moved out of the shadows to sit in front of her on the bed. "I don't have long, Jor…what happened?" he asked. Then was immediately struck by the innateness of his own question.

"That's fairly obvious, don't you think?" Jordan replied, gesturing to her expanding belly.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I mean..."

"If you're trying to ask if the baby's yours….it is."

"No…that's not it…." Damn she was pissed and for the life of him Woody couldn't understand why. Not exactly anyway. Then it hit him. "You were going to tell me you were pregnant the afternoon you came back to the Rose."

"The day you told me to 'Get the fuck out of my bar and the fuck out of my life'? Yeah, I was…"

Woody grinned, trying to get her to lighten up a little. "Jordan, you should really be careful about the language you use around our baby…"

"Yeah, well you should have been careful…oh, hell…excuse me." Jordan bolted up off the bed as nausea rolled through her body again. She barely made it to the bathroom. Despondently she retched and retched, her stomach giving up its contents yet one more time. She had been told most women's morning sickness only lasted through the first trimester.

Evidently she wasn't most women. She retched again, praying her stomach would at least right itself long enough for her to have an intelligent conversation with Woody.

From her bedroom Woody heard what was going on and wondered just how long she had been sick like this. Quietly, he got up off the bed and joined her in the bathroom, kneeling beside her and holding her long chestnut hair out of her face, and rubbing soft circles on her back. When it seemed the nausea had subsided, he got a wash cloth, wet it with cool water, and bathed her heated face. "How long has this been going on?" he asked, helping her to her feet, bearing her weight against him.

"Since the night your DNA met my DNA and we created junior…or Sally…or whoever…"

Woody smiled. At least she hadn't lost her sense of humor. He opened the medicine cabinet and found her toothbrush and toothpaste. Spreading the toothpaste on the brush, he handed it to her and turned on the water in the sink. Grateful for his attention, she brushed the sick taste out of her mouth.

"Are you able to keep anything at all down?" he asked, eyeing her middle. She was obviously pregnant, but Woody had seen women larger than Jordan at six months of pregnancy.

"Some. I do eat. And I'm gaining weight." She finished and returned her toothbrush to the medicine cabinet.

"Let me fix you something to eat now," Woody said coaxingly. Her nearly violent retching had frightened him.

"No…I'm fine…" But he was nearly dragging her to the kitchen bar and then was rummaging through her cabinet.

"Chicken noodle soup. Just what the doctor ordered…." He dumped it in a bowl and set the bowl in the microwave and then in front of her. "Now tell me …. Everything."

For the next half hour Jordan went over what was going on…who her doctor was…the frequency of the visits to the prenatal clinic…everything. Woody listened attentively, watching as she finished her soup. "Okay…bed," he finally said, swinging her up in his arms to carry her into the other room. He settled her on the bed and tucked the covers in around her. Then he sat down beside Jordan and took her hand. "We're going to be parents…."

Jordan nodded, suddenly shy at the intensity of his gaze.

"Can I?" Woody asked, placing his hand over her middle. He wanted to touch his baby…or at least get as close as he could.

"Yeah." Jordan bit her lip. His touch still made her nerve endings stand on end. "But you can feel it better without the sheets." She pushed the bed clothes down and placed his hand on her extended abdomen. Woody lightly ran his hand over it and was rewarded with a small, fluttering feeling to the inside of his hand…barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. He closed his eyes and silently promised God anything if only his assignment would soon be over. His hand lingered for a moment longer.

"I have to go now, Jordan. I don't want to….but I have to…"

Jordan nodded, her throat tightening uncomfortably. "I know. The Rose…."

"It's more than that, sweetheart…but I do promise you, you'll be taken care of…"

"But we can't be together?" she whispered, lowering her eyes from his and blinking back the tears.

Woody swore inwardly and cursed his assignment for what he hoped was the last time. "No. Not now."

"Ever?"

He sighed then. "I don't know," he lied.

Jordan nodded, as she felt him ease up from the bed and then bend down to lightly kiss her lips. He was nearly to the window to open it and leave when she stopped him again. "Can I ask you one more question?"

His hand halted on the window sill. "Sure…."

"Why did you wait so long to see me after you knew I was pregnant?"

Woody did a double take. "What? I mean, I just found out the other day."

Jordan's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "I don't understand…"

"I don't know what you mean…" Woody was equally as confused.

"The last time I came to the Rose….I left the positive pregnancy test on the bar for you to find after I left. I figured you'd turn back around and make sure I was gone and you'd find the test…."

Woody swallowed hard. He hadn't. He hadn't turned back around…he had gone to make sure the alcohol had been delivered.

And he'd bet everything he held sacred that he knew who _did_ find the test….Little Johnny.


	10. What’s It Worth?

**Chapter Ten**

**What's It Worth?**

Woody nervously adjusted the wire that ran between his t-shirt and Kevlar, praying this time that if any bullets were fired, they sure as hell weren't the armor-piercing kind. When he was satisfied the wire would stay in place and the sound technician was satisfied that it would transmit any conversations successfully, Woody buttoned his dress shirt up back and tied his tie while looking at himself in the mirror.

Damn, he was looking older than his 32 years. Of course the last two weeks had given him enough to worry about that he should look older. Jordan. Their baby. Getting out of this undercover assignment safely so that their baby would have a father…it all had pressed on his mind to the point where sleep had eluded him…and concern for the child's mother had stayed on his mind.

Jordan had been so sick that last night when he was at her apartment. Like most men, Woody only had a basic understanding of the intricacies of pregnancy, and seeing Jordan so violently ill had scared him. He had seen her sick before…. Colds, yes. Once even pneumonia. But never this ill. Woody would have given anything to tell Walcott and Freeman they could stick this assignment up their asses…he was staying with Jordan and taking care of her.

But he couldn't. Countless man hours had been put in. Countless dollars followed closely behind. He couldn't negate that. So he had done what he had to. He called Renee' on his way back to the his apartment and told her to hurry the hell up and do whatever she had to in order to bring this case to a close…or he was walking out.

Woody had expected resistance…instead the DA readily complied as long as Woody would agree to two things. First, he had to get Little Johnny to confess as to what his role in the McMartin Warehouse fire was. Secondly, Woody had to wear a wire.

The first would take some finagling, but Woody was pretty sure it could be done. However the second….the second….the wire, could get him killed if Johnny found out and backup couldn't cover the detective's ass in time. Woody nervously straightened out the front of his shirt again. Neither the Kevlar nor the wire could be detected. He should be fine.

* * *

Jordan dragged her weary body out of bed. This morning had been a battle. She had hit the snooze button on her alarm clock three times. It was only after much effort that she forced her reluctant eyes open and seriously considered calling in sick. But she had just as quickly pushed that thought aside, thinking that in the days ahead, she may really need her sick days. She nearly crawled out of the bed and into the shower, praying the hot water would revive her and make her at least feel like attempting to face the rest of the day.

Days that seemed to drearily bleed one into the other since her last exchange with Woody. She wasn't sure if she had been subconsciously been expecting a miracle to happen and Woody to stay with her…and had been so keenly disappointed when it didn't happen, or if it was just the sheer worry she had over him being at the Rose with the Irish mob that kept dragging her down…but either or both, she had to go on with her life…plan for the baby and try to take care of herself.

Putting the last touch of the little makeup she now wore on her face, she got dressed and headed into the morgue, hoping today would be quiet…low-key…just a little…boring. _That would be nice_…she thought as she got off the elevator and headed for the office.

"Morning love," Nigel greeted her. "How are you and …._junior_?" he asked, with a toothy grin.

"I've told you, Nige, I don't know what I'm having. It could be a girl or a boy…"

"Or one of both?"

"Hell, no. There's only one heartbeat…."

Nigel continued to grin. "Had breakfast?"

"No. Not yet."

"Bagels are in the break room when you need one."

"Thanks…" Jordan nodded again to her friend and proceeded to her office. A quick glance at the assignment board showed her that her wishes were coming true. It was going to be a quiet morning not only for her, but for what appeared to be the rest of the morgue…unless there was a mass fatality somewhere, she should be just fine holing up in her office getting her paperwork caught up.

Jordan had spent a quiet hour or two at her desk, signing off on death certificates and reports, when suddenly there was a knock at her door. "Come in," she said, not looking up form the file on her desk.

"Jordan…" the soft voice belonged to Lu.

"Lu…nice to see you again," Jordan managed to get out. The truth was, Jordan still wasn't sure as to the state of affairs between Lu and Woody…and it made her a bit nervous, even though Jordan was pregnant with Woody's baby. "Sit…" She motioned to a chair in front of her desk.

"I can't stay but a minute…" Lu sank down in the chair and pulled it a little closer to Jordan's desk, so she could continue their conversation in a low voice. "Look….I don't know what this means….but I think you need to know…" Lu looked guiltily around for a minute, as if she had been caught perpetuating office gossip.

"What?"

"This…I just got word that Walcott is sending a bunch of uniforms, plainclothes, and snipers over to the Rose in three hours. I don't know what's going down…and I just overheard that…but with Woody at the Rose…"

Jordan felt what little energy she had drain out of the bottom of her feet. As well as the color in her face. "Woody…" she whispered. "I've got to go to him…"

"Jordan…not in your condition…let me go and I'll keep you clued in…"

But Jordan was out the door before Lu could even think about stopping her.

* * *

"Morning, Hoyt," Little Johnny greeted Woody as he came in the back entrance of the Rose.

"Hi, Johnny," Woody replied, busy behind the bar, restocking the alcohol supply and trying to remain cool…although the wire felt like it was burning a brand on his chest. "How's it going?"

"Good….good….read the P&L on last month's sales…we're now showing a steady profit here…in part thanks to you."

Woody nodded in response, although his mind was racing for a way to ease into the matter of the McMartin Warehouse. "So how does everything else look?"

"Everything else?"

"Well, I was just wondering," Woody began, turning around and pointing to the burnt out remains of the warehouse, "if the McMartins had contacted you about selling now…now that the building is burned out…I was wondering…"

Johnny chuckled and walked over to the bar where Woody was at. "They want to, I'm sure…but since the police discovered Joey's body in there…well, I don't think it will happen right now…but I'm sure they will call me as soon as the yellow PD tape goes down…In fact, I'd bet on it."

"You would?" Woody did his best to look puzzled.

Evidently he looked it. Little Johnny continued. "Nothing like a burned out warehouse and the remains of a known Irish mob arsonist to let folks know I mean business…"

"I'm sure …" Woody's thoughts raced as he tried to keep the conversation on track. "I guess Joey didn't get out in time. Poor guy."

Johnny chuckled and ran his hand down the smooth surface of the bar. "Something like that…but I think you need to know, Hoyt…if you stay with me…I make things happen. When I really want something…I get it. It may take me a while, but I do…I'm like the tortoise in that kids' story that runs a race with the rabbit. I may be slow…I may be deliberate…It make take me a while…but I cross the finish line. I get what I want."

Woody casually glanced at his watch. If Renee and Freeman held true…the snipers and everyone should be in place. There were two plain clothes detectives outside the bar, casually talking. Now was the time to go for broke. "Did you want Joey dead?" Woody asked coldly.

"Me? Wish Joey dead? No…you read me wrong, Hoyt. That man did a lot of work for me in the past. I only wished him health and happiness. It's ashamed that the flames or smoke got to him. A real shame."

"Joey didn't die from either and you know that." Woody came out from behind the bar to face the mobster. "He died from a gunshot wound to the head. The back of the head."

If Johnny was surprised, he didn't act it. "Where did you hear that? Oh, that's right…you and Dr. Cavanaugh…the dead people's doctor. Bet she warned you…and told you to get the hell out of here, didn't she?" The last statement was said with a sneer.

"You said part of the reason you hired me was because of my continued contacts with the Boston PD. Leave Jordan out of this."

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "You've got a lot of balls, Hoyt. You are confronting me with the fact that Joey was shot…and probably asking me if I shot him?"

"You might say that." Woody sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for whoever it was that invented Kevlar.

"What's it worth to you?"

That wasn't what Woody was expecting. He anticipated working the answer out of Johnny, but not bartering with him. "Excuse me?"

"What's it worth? If I tell you I did it, what would you do for me?"

"But what if you didn't do it?"

Johnny chuckled. "Then you would want me to tell you who did. You're still that much of a cop. No…not yet. I'm not telling you anything yet, Hoyt. But I will tell you something I know about you." Johnny fished around in his pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test Jordan had left months before. "Dr. Cavanaugh is having your baby. And keeping her and the baby safe should be worth your undying loyalty…closed mouth…and blind eye."

Woody nodded. "It will…but did you do it, Johnny? I need to know…what kind of man are you really?"

The mobster threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah. I did it. I shot Joey McPherson…too many loose ends just trip you up. And now that you know…you've got to die, too…"

It happened in a flash, but not the way Woody expected. At Johnny's confession, Woody had braced himself for the possible impact of metal hitting his Kevlar, even as his own hand reached for his gun. He fully expected the bus load of cops…plain clothed and uniforms to come through the door…what he didn't expect was Jordan coming in from nowhere it seemed, pushing him out of the way as Johnny's gun discharged.

And he didn't expect to see her fall to the ground, her blood covering the right side of her body.


	11. I’m Good

**Chapter Ten**

**I'm Good**

It was a mad house after that. Woody heard the police and plain clothes officers take Johnny away…and was aware that the entire building was surrounded, but all he could focus on was the woman in his arms. Jordan. She was bleeding from somewhere…he couldn't be sure and was too afraid to move her to find out. The last thing she had whispered to him was "the baby…" before she lost consciousness.

Before he could realize what happened next, the paramedics were whisking her away from him, loading her on the gurney and rushing her to Boston General. He had followed…someone had driven him there. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember who.

And now he was pacing outside in the emergency room. It hadn't taken long for word to get out about the shooting at the Rose. And Jordan's actions. And it didn't take long for the emergency room to fill up with police officers and morgue workers – Garret, Nigel, Lily, and Bug. Lu was there, too, somewhere…mumbling something about being responsible. Woody shook his head at that. He wasn't sure how she fit it anywhere. Garret and Nigel had patted him on the back and told him how glad they were that his role at the Rose was simply an undercover assignment. Woody's lips turned up in a bitter smile. Simply an assignment.

Simple his ass. It could cost him his child and possibly the woman he loved.

But it changed once Dr. Barker came out and asked for him. Despite everything he and Jordan had been through, she still had him listed as her next of kin.

"Take a deep breath and sit down, Detective Hoyt…if not, I may be admitting you next," Dr. Barker said. Woody's face was pale and his hand trembled slightly when he held it out to shake hands with the doctor. "She's going to be fine. Just fine. The bullet pierced her arm and went clean through…didn't even nick the bone. It was bloody, but it wasn't bad. She was in more danger from the shock that set in than from the actual bullet wound."

Woody swallowed hard…an effort because his mouth was dry. "And the baby?" he managed to ask.

"Strong as a horse. The heartbeat is good….there are no early contractions…everything is fine."

Woody felt his knees give away in relief. He put out a hand against the wall to steady himself, and breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanksgiving at the same time. "Can I see her?"

"She's asleep right now, but I don't see why not. It'll make you feel better…and her, too, if she wakes up while you're here. She's asked about you twice." The doctor began to walk down the hall and motioned for Woody to follow. He was led to a small room …and Jordan was lying in a bed. There was a monitor on her and Dr. Barker pointed out the fetal monitor on the baby. The baby's heart beat read out in little blips on a piece of paper. Dr. Barker looked at the newest section of the print out and held it up for Woody's inspection. "See….your baby is doing fine…just fine. And so is its mother."

Woody sank into a chair beside Jordan's bed, his knees finally giving way in exhaustion and relief. Jordan's right arm was bandaged; her left one was thrown protectively over her expanded abdomen, as if protecting the baby even in sleep. He gingerly took the hand of the uninjured arm and laced their fingers together. Sighing, he pulled his chair closer to the bed and laid his head down next to her.

"Stay as long as you like…I think maybe you need this more than she does," Dr. Barker said softly, as he turned to go.

* * *

Jordan felt the world slowly returning to her as she tried to raise her reluctant eyelids….Then slammed them shut again when she remembered what happened…the Rose had been raided…Johnny captured…as well as Woody.

Woody…she had pushed him out of the way…and been hurt herself…but the doctor told her she was okay and so was their baby. That was some comfort…bittersweet in the face of the fact that the baby wouldn't know his father for a long time. Woody was sure to be sent away for racketeering charges or something similar. Jordan felt the tears gathering in her eyes and tried to brush them away.

Only to find out she couldn't move her hand because Woody was holding it tightly. _Woody?_

"Woody…" Jordan breathed and instantly he was awake and moved to sit beside her. "Woody…what are you doing here? Did Walcott let you stay and see me before they booked you?" she asked, not letting go of his hand.

It hit Woody then. Jordan was the only person who didn't know that he had been undercover. Shortly after Little Johnny's arrest, it had been broadcast loud and long at the Boston PD and surrounding agencies that Woody had been undercover…and pulled off a highly successful and dangerous assignment essentially solo. He was a hero…and everyone knew it.

Everyone except Jordan. She had been unconscious. Woody wasn't sure if she would bless him or curse him…hold him or hit him when she found out. He gently brushed the hair out of her eyes. "We need to talk, Jo."

"I know." Jordan struggled to sit up. Woody very gently but deliberately held her down but raised the back of the bed so they were looking in each other's eyes. "We'll get you a good lawyer…the best I can afford. Dad left me some money…we'll be okay…"

"Jordan…"

"I'll take good care of the baby…and we'll come and visit you…before you know it, you'll be out…"

"Jordan."

The tone of his voice stopped her rambling. "What?" The look in his eyes made her catch her breath.

"I was undercover."

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her…and as the reality of his words set in, Woody wasn't prepared for what happened next. She launched herself into his arms and held him…tightly.

"Jordan…air….I need to breathe…"

She loosened her hold on him then, but Woody felt her shoulders shaking. "It's okay…don't cry…"

"You don't have to go to jail…"

"No…"

He pulled back and looked at her. She had never looked lovelier than she did at that moment…her eyes glowing, even if she was crying. Gently he eased her back into his arms and then both of them back on the pillows. He held her until she had cried it all out.

"Are you mad at me?" he finally asked, after working up the courage.

"I guess I should be," she sniffled. "But I'm not. I'm just glad you're back…"

"I wanted to tell you, but Walcott wouldn't let me."

"Then I'm mad at Walcott."

Woody chuckled and held her…right now, he didn't have to be in any hurry to leave. He was the most content he could ever remember being … with Jordan asleep on his chest and his hand resting on top of the baby. He had told a uniform in the emergency room what happened. He told Walcott he'd get with her later….much later….after he knew Jordan was okay. The only plans he had right now was just holding her and not leaving until someone ran him off.

Which he thought might happen when a nurse entered the room. "Keep your seat," she told him. "Dr. Cavanaugh asked about you several times while we were patching her up." The nurse checked Jordan's blood pressure. "And evidently you are just what the doctor ordered, because her blood pressure is back to normal." The nurse grinned at Woody. "If I were you, I'd make myself comfortable and plan to stay a while. It doesn't look like she's going to let you go anytime soon."

Woody grinned back. It really didn't. One of Jordan's hands was clutching the front of his shirt as tightly as she could. He let her stay that way until Dr. Barker came back into the room. "Jordan…." he whispered. "Dr. Barker's here…" Jordan stirred then and Woody slipped off his side of the bed.

"Okay, Dr. Cavanaugh. I just need to make sure the baby is okay. We'll have a listen to the heartbeat and then I want to do a sonogram just to make sure everything is still right on target."

Woody looked uncomfortable for a minute. "Should I step outside?"

Dr. Barker shook his head. "Not unless you don't want to hear and see your baby…" He targeted the heartbeat monitor on Jordan's abdomen and listened closely. He moved it a few times before the baby's heartbeat could be heard loud and clear. "There…hear that, Detective Hoyt? There's your baby…"

Woody felt tears come to his eyes as rapid beat of a baby's heart could be heard. "Should it be that fast?" he asked.

Jordan nodded. "It's normal."

It took a few more minutes for the sonogram machine to be set up. Woody watched in fascination as the image of his and Jordan's baby appeared on the screen. Dr. Barker moved the probe around. "Let's see, kids. Spinal cord is good…head is good….all the fingers and all the toes. Yep. You got yourself a baby. A pretty, darn healthy one at that, despite what it's been through today."

Woody tightened the hold he had on Jordan's hand. A baby. His baby. _Their _baby. He glanced down at Jordan, only to find her looking up at him. "Are you okay…with all of this?" she asked quietly. Woody knew she had been pregnant, but with things being the way they were, they hadn't had time to even remotely discuss the future.

"I'm ….I'm….speechless…" he admitted. "I mean…wow….but I'm good…" Jordan smiled a little at his earnestness. It seemed her Farm Boy hadn't completely disappeared.

"And I can tell you what you're having if you want to know," Dr. Barker cut in.

Woody looked back down at Jordan, who merely shrugged. "I was more anxious to know it was healthy…if you want to know what we're having, it's fine with me."

Nodding to Dr. Barker, Woody said, "Go ahead."

"Congratulations Detective Hoyt and Dr. Cavanaugh. It seems you two are having a perfectly healthy son."

"A boy…" Jordan breathed, her eyes still on the screen that held the image of the baby.

"Yep. As far as I can tell….someone put the stem on the apple," Dr. Barker chuckled as he printed out a few pictures of their unborn son for them to have. "You're doing great, Jordan. But I want to keep you overnight just to make sure everything stays that way. Barring any unforeseen consequences, you should be able to go home tomorrow at lunch. Okay, kids?" He packed up the sonogram machine and headed out the door.

"A boy…." Jordan said again. "A son.."

"Looks that way. And the doctor said he's healthy…but right now I'm worried about his mom," Woody replied, concern lacing his voice.

"I'm fine, Woody."

"You need to rest, Jordan. No offense, but you look like hell…"

Jordan chuckled. "No offense taken, but the past several months, you've put me through hell…."

"I'm sorry….but Walcott would have had my balls if I told anyone."

"I understand…I do…just kiss me good night and go get some rest yourself."


	12. A Good Place to Start

**Chapter Eleven**

**A Good Place to Start**

She was asleep when he arrived late the next morning.

Woody had gotten up and for the first time in over a year headed back to the Nineteenth Precinct instead of the Rose. He reported in for duty and spent the next several hours with Walcott and Captain Freeman, going back over the details of the operation. Then he signed out, requested the next two weeks off, and went to the hospital to pick up Jordan.

At some point, Woody realized his plans of a quiet retirement to Keuwanne to become the newest dairy farmer in that community had faded away completely

He quietly entered her hospital room after softly knocking and getting no response. Assuming that she wasn't there for some reason, he decided to go in and wait for her to get back.

Only to find her fast asleep. Evidently this ordeal had taken more out of her than she realized. Jordan Cavanaugh had never been known to sleep past seven, even on a morning she decided stay in the bed. Woody sat down in the chair beside her bed and took her hand. Her left hand. The hand he hoped to have a ring on before the week was out. An engagement ring at least. He may not exactly be the Farm Boy he once was, but something about him hadn't changed. He wasn't a complete Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The desire to take care of Jordan and his son was overwhelming.

The need to make up for lost time was urgent.

She had endured a lot from him over the past eighteen months. First, because of his bad-ass attitude when he was in the hospital…when he thought he knew everything and had so roughly pushed her away…not once, but twice.

And just when he thought they both had lost their way back to each other, she tells him that she still loves him. He couldn't do a damn thing about it, of course. He was in the middle of the assignment with the Rose. He couldn't even comfort her the way he wanted to when Max died.

But somehow, in this whole mess of things…they had created a baby…a son. Now their child and their lives together hinged on her…and if she would accept what little he had to offer…monetarily it wasn't much.

Intangibly, it was everything. His heart. One that he would freely give in exchange for hers.

Woody got up out of his chair and gently sat on the side of her bed. Just as cautiously, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Jordan's eyelids fluttered and then opened to stare into his blue one. Blue eyes she thought she may have lost forever…or at least a good ten to twenty years. Slowly a grin slid across her face.

Woody's face echoed the smile. "What's say we blow this joint?" he asked. "Where would you like to go?"

"I'd say that sounds like a great idea….and home sounds like a good place to start."

* * *

An hour later, Jordan found herself signed out of the hospital and back home in her own apartment, curled up on the couch. She watched with badly hid amusement as Woody tried to figure out where they could put a crib in the bedroom, while at the same time making a grocery list and unloading her dishwasher.

Her premonition about him not letting her lift a finger was becoming a harsh reality. But one she wouldn't trade for the world. "We can move into Dad's," she finally said, hoping to calm him down some. He was set on hyper drive, trying to make up for lost time.

"Your dad's place?"

"He left it to me. I mean, I would want to do some painting and a few things…but that's three bedrooms and two baths that we don't have to pay for."

Woody came and sat beside her on the couch, gently pulling her into his lap. "You'd give up your apartment, Jo? I mean…this place is connected so closely with you…."

Jordan shrugged. "You do what you have to…besides. I said I wanted to redecorate Dad's old place. It will become me…us…in a little while."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

She hesitated. "We could always sublet this place…."

Woody chuckled. "So you're going to let me move in with you…"

Momentarily Jordan was taken back at his words. She had assumed he would want to…had she misread him? But the look in Woody's eyes simply told her that he was unsure…he had been gone so long…and so much had happened between them. "Of course….under some very specific conditions…of course."

"And what are they?"

"Well…first….you have to do the cooking. At least until the baby is born. The smell of anything simmering or baking still makes me sick."

"Deal."

"And you can't hog the covers…"

"That can be arranged."

"And you have to rinse your shaving cream and toothpaste drips out of the bathroom sink."

"I always do."

"And no wet towels or dirty boxers on the floor. That's why God created hampers."

"Tighty whities?"

"Please tell me no….you don't own a pair."

Woody chuckled. "Is that all?"

Jordan looked deep into his eyes…a myriad of emotions sailing through hers. "Do you want to….stay with _me_?" she asked in a small voice, as if she really wasn't sure it was her he was wanting so much as only the baby.

He folded her into his arms and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Yes. More than anything. Even if you weren't pregnant, I'd be here with you, Jordan. But it's time for the dance to end. We've waffled around our emotions and feelings for years now….sometimes you pushing me away and sometimes me pushing you away. It's time to be honest and open. Too much is at stake. I love you…and I'm committed to you and our son. No vows have been taken…and none may ever be…that's up to you. But I hope that eventually, you'll want to share my name as well as my bed."

Jordan sniffled, a sound nearly muffled by how closely Woody was holding her. "I'd like that very much…but can we wait until after the baby is born?"

Woody took a moment to digest the fact that Jordan had accepted his proposal so quickly…and without argument. Then he managed to stammer out, "W…why wait?"

"Because I want to fit into a pretty dress….and right now I'd look like the Stay-Puffed marshmallow man in a white outfit….."

He grinned at her then. One of those melt-your-heart grins that always weakened Jordan's knees and her resolve. "I'm serious, Jo. The game is over. This is for real." He rested one hand on her expanding belly. "This is the real deal…"

"White picket fence and everything."

"Yep."

"More than just an eighteen year commitment?"

"Much more…and longer."

"How much more?"

"Quite a bit…"

"Would you like to show me how much more?"

He caught the gleam in her eye then. "Well, there's always this…." He said, finding that sensitive spot beneath her ear. "And then there's this…" He palmed her breast while still nibbling at her neck. "And of course….there's this…" He claimed her lips then…in one of those mind-numbing kisses he was so good at. Jordan was scarcely aware he had lifted her from the couch and was carrying her in his arms to her bedroom. "Is this going to be okay?" he asked. "I mean…can you?"

Jordan nodded. And for the next hour she proceeded to show him just how okay it could be.

* * *

"Breathe, Jordan. Focus and breathe…" Woody coached her through the last minutes of labor. "Breathe between contractions…." The two months that past since he had gotten off assignment had flown. He and Jordan had hardly had time to get Max's old house painted and decorated the way she wanted when their son decided to make an appearance.

Jordan stopped pushing for a moment and tried to…but the pain was enormous. "I gotta push again," she grunted to Woody and Dr. Barker.

"Go ahead," Dr. Barker replied. "Your son has crowned…just a little more….A little more. Push harder….one more push."

Jordan gritted her teeth and squeezed Woody's hand in a near-death grip. And then pushed. Hard.

A minute later, their son's tiny wail could be heard in the room. Jordan flopped back on her bed, exhausted. She watched as Woody cut the umbilical cord and brought the tiny infant to her. "He's here," Woody said, putting the baby in Jordan's outstretched arms.

A button nose, and red, wrinkled skin…and a head full of chestnut hair…Jordan's color and Woody's hair cut. It was sticking out all over. She laughed as she tried with no avail to straighten it. And held her breath when Zachary Taylor Hoyt opened his eyes. They were blue like his dad's. Jordan knew their was a chance the color might change in the weeks ahead, but it didn't look to be a possibility. The blue was Woody's shade…sky blue and piercing.

And the fact that you could already see that Zach was going to have dimples didn't hurt. Jordan chuckled. In a matter of years, she'd be chasing the girls away from her son.

"We did good," Woody said, gently stroking their son's tiny fist and kissing her. "Real good."

"Yeah, we did…but I'm beat." After 32 hours of labor, Jordan was worn out.

"The nurse needs to take him anyway…get him weighed and cleaned up. Then we'll get you to your room and let you rest," Dr. Barker said, making sure the placenta had been delivered intact and that everything else looked okay. "If anyone deserves a good night's sleep, it's you."

Woody gently took her hand. "He's right…you need to rest."

"I'm fine…but next time you decide to play Romeo and climb through my bedroom window, would you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Stop at the drugstore first."


End file.
